<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Tit for Tat by sj_99</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716755">Tit for Tat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sj_99/pseuds/sj_99'>sj_99</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dress Up! Time Princess (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1920s, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book: Gotham Memoirs (Dress Up! Time Princess), Burlesque, But also, Canon-Typical Violence, Dress Up! Time Princess - Freeform, Drugs, Elizabeth didnt need Vitto, F/M, Gambling, Gotham Memoirs, I'll probably think of more, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, New York City, Period Typical Attitudes, Sex, Slow Burn, Smoking, Spoilers, The Sparrow Room, Violence, World War I, apparently, but he needed her, but nothing too graphic, mafia, oh and, oh ya that lost generation is there</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:02:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sj_99/pseuds/sj_99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth Colvin, intrepid reporter-wannabe, was called home a year ago after her sister, Katrina, went missing. She returned to New York City to find out what happened and seek revenge on the man who killed her, Mafia boss Francesco Juliano. While going undercover in The Sparrow Room, she meets rival boss Vittorio Puzo, who wants to join her in her mission. It's dangerous to play with an evil man's heart, and the consequences of mistakes are life and death.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Colvin/Vittorio Puzo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. How to Treat a Lady</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>~ The obligatory "I do not own these characters" spiel ~</p><p>Also, I've decided that the game did not take Elizabeth seriously enough: she's smart and didn't need Vittorio to get the scoop. So Chapters 1-2 of Gotham Memoirs do not exist in this world. Parts are cannon compliant but most of the story is inspired by events in the game. </p><p>If anyone has any comments, please don't hesitate to say something!! I live for criticism.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lisa Dawson catches the eye of The Sparrow Room owner, Mafia boss Francesco Juliano</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The man in the dark green suit leaned over the tables towards Lisa Dawson, slapping her butt twice. She turned on her kitten heels and grabbed his wrist, “I’m not sure if you mistook my ass for something else, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”</p><p>The other men at the table stared at her in surprise. A few heckled the man, but it was mostly shocked silence. But the man in the green suit leaned back and chuckled, “You must be new here.”</p><p>She narrowed her eyes and looked at the bottles on the table. It was the best in the house. The stuff saved for the boss. He watched her eyes and grinned, raising a brow. She swallowed her nerves and looked back at him, hand on her hip, “You may own the place, but that means shit all when it comes to touching me like that.” </p><p>This time, the men all jeered. The boss laughed instead, drinking his rye in two sips and holding out the glass for her, shaking it expectedly. He grinned, replying in his heavy Brooklyn accent, “Agree to disagree. How much do you make in a night?”</p><p>Lisa refilled it and replied, “95 cents an hour, plus tip.”</p><p>He handed it back, waving for her to drink it. Without breaking eye contact, she placed her lips over where his once were, leaving a faint red stain. She placed the half-full glass back into his hands, brushing against his fingers. He licked his lips like a hungry dog and said, “Well, why don’t you stay with us instead? As you said, I am the owner.”</p><p>Lisa blushed, “Well sir, I couldn’t leave the girls short-handed, not on a Friday night.”</p><p>The man, still smiling, slammed his hand down on the table. Lisa jumped, covering her chest with the black tray. Mrs. Molly ran over, smiling her perfect smile, “Is everything alright, Mr. Juliano?”</p><p>“I want,” he waved at Lisa, who was half-hidden behind Mrs. Molly. </p><p>“Lisa?” Mrs. Molly seemed surprised. </p><p>“Lisa!” Mr. Juliano laughed. His entourage laughed along, though some were unsure of why. “I want Lisa here to spend the rest of her evening with my friends and me. How would that affect business?”</p><p>Mrs. Molly looked at Lisa, who was staring at the ground with a pretty, blank face. “It could be managed.” </p><p>“She’ll receive full wages as well,” he said offhandedly as Mrs. Molly hurried away, looking for a replacement. Mr. Juliano then clapped and pulled Lisa onto his lap, pleased with himself.</p><p>She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled coyly, “I’m quite honored, but I doubt your company could make up my rent in tips.”</p><p>Mr. Juliano smiled and chuckled, “What do you make on a Friday night? $15, $18?”</p><p>Lisa looked around, cocking her head like a curious puppy. She readjusted her breasts in her bandeau, moving the top of her tight dress so a bit of the lace crept out. The men looked at each other, smirking as Mr. Juliano stared at her skin, all but drooling. She smiled and replied matter-of-factly, “$25 at least, after pooling. Not to mention, at least one free meal during the week” </p><p>The boss chuckled and took his wallet out of his pocket. He pulled two crisp, ten dollar bills out and folded them twice over. He placed it in her bra and patted just above her breasts twice, “You can get the other half at the end of the night.”</p><p>She smiled and threw her arms around his neck, playing with the ugly green tie. “You’ve got quite the business acumen, Mr. Juliano,” she whispered into his ear, smiling as his hair stood up when her lips brushed against his stubbly neck. </p><p>“I’ve been told,” he replied, feeling her silhouette with greedy hands. “So, what do you do in the club besides breaking men’s hearts?” </p><p>Lisa flipped her long red hair over her shoulder and winked at a man across the table, who looked away. She smiled; his avoidance meant that she had become Juliano’s interest. “I just got moved up to be a singer. I’ll be performing tomorrow’s opening number.”</p><p>“I look forward to hearing it.” </p><p>Lisa sat on Juliano’s lap for a few more minutes before sliding into the seat next to him, trapped between burly men in fine suits. The moment her thighs lifted off his, he wrapped a protective arm around her waist, feeling her up with increasing brazen as he got drunker and drunker. She laughed with the men, easily able to keep up with the conversation. When offered a puff of a cigar, she did so with ease, much to the men’s amusement. At the end of the night, Juliano pulled her back onto his lap. She could feel him adjust under her as one hand attempted to pull the dress above her thigh. The other hand began to unbutton her dress. She jumped up, much to everyone’s surprise, and exclaimed, “How <em> dare </em> you!”</p><p>Juliano leaned back with a grin, completely unfazed. “What’s wrong, Lisa?”</p><p>Though what she really wanted to do was throttle him at that very moment, she placed her head in her hands and sobbed loudly, running backstage. One of the other girls, Natasha, ran back, “What happened?” </p><p>Lisa was sitting at one of the makeup tables, applying fresh mascara. Natasha walked up and buttoned her back up. “What happened?” She asked again, hugging Lisa. </p><p>Before she could say anything, the door slammed open, Juliano blocking the entire frame.  Lisa straightened up and began to apply lipstick. Natasha shrunk into herself and looked helplessly at her friend, who gave her silent permission to leave. Natasha kissed her cheek and left out a different entrance, nodding politely to Mr. Juliano. “Did I upset you?” he asked, voice dripping with sardonic concern. </p><p>Lisa stood up and readjusted her dress. “I’m not sure how it works here, as I am not from the city, but where I come from, gentlemen don’t try to take off a lady’s dress in a crowded room.” </p><p>Juliano crossed the room in three large strides and shoved Lisa against the wall. The vanity shook. He pressed his lips against her throat before whispering, “You’re no lady.” </p><p>She pushed him away with ease — he was practically falling over drunk. He chuckled, smoothing out his suit. He pulled out his wallet and took two new ten-dollar bills out. In one swift motion, he pushed her back against the wall with his forearm and pulled her skirt up. He tucked the cash in the band of her underwear and pressed his cheek against hers, hissing, “I’m not the kind of man you say no to, Lisa.” </p><p>He kissed her, aggressively biting down on her lip. She didn’t move as he pulled harder, trying to get a rise out of her. Disappointed, he pulled her next to him, gripping her by the hip. “I’ll walk you out, Mr. Juliano,” she said, taking a step ahead of him. </p><p>“You’re not like the others,” he grinned, lip curling like the Cheshire Cat. </p><p>She wasn’t. She was the perfect combination of rebellious and obedient; she knew this of course, as she had designed herself to be as such. To be irresistible to his every desire. He wanted a girl who only said no when it didn’t inconvenience him. And she was willing to do that. She was willing to do anything to take him down. Absolutely anything.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Down at The Sparrow Room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Juliano keeps his promise and shows up to see Lisa's debut, but the opening number is just the beginning of a show</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love 1920s slang so I've sprinkled some in ~ as a treat ~ </p><p>dollymop - prostitute, British/Canadian slang (any Murdoch Mysteries fans)<br/>behind the eight ball - in a difficult situation<br/>butter and egg man - a rich guy who comes into clubs with a lot of cash to burn through<br/>kitten - young woman</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next afternoon, Lisa sat in the dressing room, putting on her makeup. Lily leaned against the vanity, the same one that had left a small bruise on Lisa’s hip the night before, smiling smugly, “So, are you looking to change careers? From dancer to dollymop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa placed the brush down and turned, smiling, “No one can understand you when you have all that cotton in your mouth, Lily.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glared, big doe eyes narrowing, “You should watch yourself around him, is all I’m saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa stood up, she was a fair bit taller than Lily, who stuck her chin out in defiance. “What should I have done, then, your majesty?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her thick French-Canadian accent, Lily replied curtly, “I was trying to do you a favor.” She turned, whipping her hair over her shoulder, but Lisa stopped her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you weren’t. But really, tell me. What should I do the next time he tries undressing me in the middle of the floor? Or if any customer tries to slap my ass?” Lisa sat back down at the vanity and picked up a red lipstick, applying it to the center of her lips carefully. “Without paying first, that is, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dollymop</span>
  </em>
  <span> that I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Molly walked into the room, and all the chatter stopped. “Lisa? Come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood up, put on her shoes, and followed calmly. Most of the girls looked at her with concern, but Lily’s girls just smiled smugly. The two stood in the hallway, staring at framed photos of dancers and performers. “Mrs. Molly? I have to finish getting ready and setting up. Is everything alright with my performance? You said it was perfect during rehearsal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t perfect, your side steps were too narrow,” she snapped, and then smoothed her blonde hair down. “Lily is right, annoying as the foreign bitch is. Mr. Juliano is a dangerous man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa nodded slowly, “All these well-wishers, yet no one is telling me how exactly I'm behind the eight ball here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying that you should sell whatever you can for whatever it’s worth and leave town,” Mrs. Molly replied, looking up at Lisa with a sad smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa shook her head, “I’m not leaving because of some man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not just some man-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left home because of one. I won’t run again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Molly sighed. Most of her girls were reckless, you had to be a bit reckless to get yourself into burlesque. But there was something different about Lisa; she was the kind of reckless that looked for trouble just to prove she could handle it. “Just, make sure when he’s bored of you, you still have a purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa nodded slowly, “I don’t get to just say no, do I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Molly shook her head, “Unfortunately, women don’t get to just say no. Especially not women like us. If he wants you, there is nothing any of us can do about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa returned to the dressing room and finished getting ready before the opening number. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That evening, she looked out the curtain and saw Juliano in his seat, drinking with a few men. He didn’t usually come this early. He did say that he wanted to see her sing. She had expected it to take longer, reeling him in like this. But apparently not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took her place on stage, laying across the chaise, feet crossed at the ankle. The music began and a large curtain lifted, leaving her behind a translucent piece of black silk, nothing but a sultry silhouette. She sang in her low, raspy voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not an angel, darling </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve learned of a sin or two, maybe a few</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kissed boys in the dark at the park</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Done things that put dear mama in a bad mood</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The curtain dropped and the crowd whistled. She stood and swayed to the mic stand, blowing kisses into the crowd. As she held the microphone, she ripped the side panel of her skirt, which floated to the ground, revealing a split in the dress that made its way up to her hip. The music picked up in tempo a bit as she began again:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes I’m a goddess in the flesh </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Softest skin you’ve never met </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Buy me a drink </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll see what I think </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But chances are, you ain’t got what it takes </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To make a girl like me feel </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How she needs</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because I’m sugary-sweet</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A caramel that stays in your teeth</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But come on and try to take a bite</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even chocolate lovers say I’m right! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come down to the Sparrow Room</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ask for the girl who makes you see God </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I just might</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But darling boy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I guarantee you’ll be drooling all night</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come down to the Sparrow Room</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come and meet the girls at the Sparrow Room</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The opening song was finished, but the night had just begun. The band moved onto its next piece as the curtain fell and the girls scrambled to get the next number. Lisa went back into the wings to help the dancers switch costumes. No matter why she came, she genuinely loved the rush of backstage. She changed for her next number, where she went back to being a background singer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The organized chaos continued as she moved to and from stage. Finally, it was the end of her stage shift, and she moved onto the floor. Lisa swayed around the room, laughing as she flirted with the men in the room and took drink orders, convincing the butter and egg men to spend more money on drinks they didn’t need. The Sparrow Room’s facade of a burlesque club left it barely legal, but it’s real purposes, finding girls and running rum, were blatantly against the law. Her biggest tip of the night came from the local precinct’s captain, who tried to convince her to run away with him on his wife’s boat. She kissed cheeks, ruffled hair, and played with ties. Except for Juliano. She avoided his table meticulously, offering him little more than flirty smiles when their eyes met. He was fuming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Dawson?” a voice from behind her called. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She recognized it immediately and turned to face him. Even in the dim light of the club, she could see how handsome he was. Neat hair, pressed suit, and none of the drunken flush present on every other man. Lips pursed, she approached him with a hand resting on her feathered hip. He smiled and adjusted his collar, holding a gracious hand out to the seat next to him. She took it reluctantly. The men around him moved, and she realized that they were with him, watching around him, protecting him. He watched her eyes and nodded, confirming her suspicions. “I can’t help but notice that you are all alone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of us is.” She looked past him at Juliano, who had turned a new shade of red. “He really hates you, doesn’t he?” she asked, smiling and playfully touching his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned; he had sat with his back to Juliano on purpose, as much as difficult as it was for him to do so. He knew that she’d want to see Juliano’s reaction to his presence, see what an important asset he could be. “Quite vehemently. He’s tried to kill me twice this year alone. Have you thought about my offer?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa ignored his question and topped off his glass. He tipped her a dollar and left without drinking it. As he left, she could feel his eyes burning into her backside, and for some reason, she felt her cheeks flush. She passed Juliano’s table; he smiled as she got closer, satisfied. But she didn’t stop walking, and he was clearly fed up with her game. She grabbed the trash from the men’s room and went to the dumpster in the alley. Juliano was a few steps behind her, the hunter silently stalking the doe. He watched her throw the bag into the dumpster. As soon as she closed the bin, he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her against the building. He was polite enough to use his hand to block her head from hitting the brick, but her bare shoulder blades scraped against the uneven wall, stinging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano aggressively kissed her neck, biting as he moaned. He moved up to her lips, grabbed her throat with one hand, and pushed her hips against his hard crotch. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa giggled and pushed his shoulder playfully, “I was working.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Juliano didn’t want to play anymore. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. He ran his fingers over her neck, humming as chills shook her entire body. “I thought that I had made myself pretty clear, Lisa. If you don’t want to die, don’t ever reject me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed and took a chance. She dramatically sighed and hooked her arms around his waist. “Mr. Juliano,” she said, trying to make her voice as seductive as possible. “Why would I ever want to avoid a man like you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, moving his hands down, grabbing her too tightly. “Continue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She loosened his red silk tie. “You are unlike any man I’ve ever met. You’re just so,” she gently ran her fingers over his arms. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Powerful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano kissed her again, high from the attention, as well as the cocaine she had seen him snorting. “You seem like a clever kitten.” He smacked her butt as he said it. “Tell Mrs. Molly that you’ll be working the next game. She knows what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slapped her ass again and left, readjusting his tie. As soon as the door was slammed, Lisa leaned against the wall, panting heavily. When he had grabbed her, she felt not one, but three guns on him. And in that first moment, she couldn’t reach the knife she kept tucked into her knee high boots. If he had wanted to, she would’ve been dead already. Without ever leaving the club. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Lisa had collected herself, she went back inside and finished the night. She calculated the tip pool and counted inventory. It was nearly four in the morning by the time she was able to go into the dressing room and get ready for bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead, she walked down the street to the payphone at the corner. She pulled out a crumpled card from her jacket lining and dialed the number. “Kenny’s Laundry,” a tired, bored female voice answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, this is Liz. I would like to drop off three ties for pressing,” she whispered, terrified that she was placing her trust into the wrong man, that a bunch of brutes would appear and drag her into the alley, that she would never be seen again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice paused, “Thank you. We will contact you with the price.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed nervously, “How? You can’t call me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not my job, miss. I just answer the phone.” There was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the line went dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no stopping what had been put in motion now. She whispered a prayer under her breath, hoping that she had done the right thing.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Modest Proposal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A mysterious Mr. Puzo approaches Lisa Dawson with a unique offer</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*trigger warnings in tags apply*</p><p>butt me = give me a cigarette<br/>rapper = set up<br/>peaching = informing, snitching<br/>clip = kill<br/>pipes = throat<br/>Sheba = an attractive woman<br/>filled with daylight = put a hole in by shooting/stabbing</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>~</span>
  <em>
    <span>Two weeks ago~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa walked out into the alley and lit her cigarette, leaning against the dumpster. Juliano came to The Sparrow Room almost every night, drinking. He came into the dressing room sometimes to flirt with girls, touching whoever he pleased wherever he pleased. That night, he had run his fingers through her hair as he whispered, “I like redheads, they’re always the ones down to try anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t give her more attention than that. She figured that he would corner her, demanding a blowjob, or at least a rub down, the way he did to most new girls. Instead, after groping her hair, he had decided to grab a girl named Sandy and rape her in the coatroom. Mrs. Molly had given Sandy the rest of the week to recuperate by working day shifts only, in order to avoid him. The lack of surprise from Mrs. Molly helped confirm what Lisa already knew: he belonged in an unmarked grave that even dogs won’t shit on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was musing ways to add to his torture once she’s got him alone when she heard someone walk up behind her. She flicked the cigarette away, pulled a switchblade out of her boot, and shoved the body against the chain-link fence. “You better have a good reason for sneaking up on a girl during her smoke break,” she warned.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man chuckled, unfazed. He nodded behind her, and she tensed as she felt the cool metal barrel touch her neck. Hands up, she put the knife back into her shoe and held her hand out between the two, expectantly. The men looked at her, one grinning and the other confused. “You made me toss a barely lit stick, now butt me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one without the gun, clearly amused by her tenacity, took a dented case out of his coat pocket and handed a new cigarette to her, holding out an intricately engraved silver lighter. She put the cigarette in her mouth and waited for him to bring the flame to her. The fire lit up the area slightly, giving her a chance to look at her possible assailants. The man in charge, the one with the lighter, was tall and gaunt. His eyes were the darkest brown she had ever seen. Lisa took a long pull and blew the smoke in his face “I respect a man who rolls his own,” she remarked. The hand-rolled cigarette tasted like good tobacco and some type of flower. “What do you want?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man smoothed out his black peacoat and lit his own cigarette, motioning for his man to put the gun down. “I think we have the potential for a great partnership,” he answered in a faded Italian accent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lisa raised an eyebrow, slightly more on guard. He could be one of Juliano’s men, already having caught her. She thought she would find </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>before they tossed her in the Hudson. He stuck his hand out, “Vittorio Puzo.” She stared and tentatively reached for it. He brought her gloved hand to his lips politely. “We both want the same thing: Francesco Juliano dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled her hand back in shock, staring at the two men. They both looked familiar, but for different reasons. “What kind of rapper are you pulling?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio Puzo began, “Miss Dawson-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never told you my name.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still haven’t. But I know a lot about you, Lisa. Or do you prefer Elizabeth?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth Colvin narrowed her eyes and leaned against the fence, taking a long drag off the cigarette. She had decided to accept that these men were here to kill her. It seemed easier to accept death than try to fight it. If they knew who she was, she had nothing to lose, “Miss Colvin, to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Puzo smiled, enjoying himself, “Alright, Miss Colvin. I know why you’re here: you want to get revenge for your sister. And I want Juliano out of commission. You’re going to want allies, but I need them. That even gives you the upper hand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving past his knowledge of her, she asked, “Why would you give me the upper hand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because a good woman like you can win at poker two cards down, but once she gets a full hand, she becomes impossible to beat.” She snorted, but he continued, “I come with resources and inside knowledge. You start peaching for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you want him dead?” Elizabeth asked. “Why should I trust that you won’t just clip me once you’ve gotten what you want?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose giving you my word as a Christian gentleman isn’t enough?” She rolled her eyes. “Fair enough. What do you know about Juliano’s businesses? The ones outside of what your sister got pushed into.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of her sister, Elizabeth ground her teeth together in anger. This Puzo character knew too much about her life for her comfort. “Not as much as I would like,” she admitted. “But I think selling girls is enough to hate the man, don’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Puzo nodded, “I agree wholeheartedly. Juliano got into that because he’s got it in his head that the Families should take on the more, um, </span>
  <em>
    <span>profitable</span>
  </em>
  <span>, lines of work. And in doing that, he’ll be sticking his fingers into a whole lot more pies than just human trafficking. Get a lot of good people caught up in dangerous games.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re doing your community a favor?” she laughed incredulously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make no mistake, Miss Colvin, I do not pretend to be something I am not. I am not what most would call ‘a good man.’ But there are lines that I have no intention of letting my people cross.” Mr. Puzo seemed sincere. “Would I benefit in other ways if Juliano is out of the picture? Of course. But maybe you would be able to consider me the lesser of two evils.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth turned away from him and looked at the other man. He was significantly shorter and significantly more anxious. “Why do I know you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve probably seen me at the club. I run with Juliano’s crew. I’m Mr. Puzo’s inside man,” he offered. He was from the city, probably raised in this very neighborhood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth shook her head. She had seen him there, but that wasn’t it. The man looked towards his boss, shifting slightly. Mr. Puzo sighed and said, “Leonard here, he-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Puzo didn’t need to finish his sentence. Elizabeth had already pulled a knife — a different one from the blade stashed in her boot — and pressed the tip against Leonard’s throat. He made no effort to reach for his gun or push her off. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>Leonard? You fucking pig! Give me one reason I shouldn’t slice your pipes right now!” Liz growled, barely keeping herself from yelling at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard stared blankly at her, chewing on his cheek. “I can’t,” he finally replied. “I should never have convinced her to stay here with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you’re sorry for? Not for selling her to that monster like fucking cattle? You’re sorry for living in sin?!” she cried out, pushing the tip of the knife harder against his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard shook his head fervently, “I didn’t sell her, I would never!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why would she tell me that you did? Not enough you got her killed, now you have to call her a liar?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what Juliano told her! When he wants one of his men’s girls, that’s what he says. Said if I tell her otherwise he’ll,” Leonard looked down, not meeting her hateful gaze for the first time. “He said he’d kill her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears welled in her eyes as she spit, “How did that turn out, Leonard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I loved Katrina. I wanted to marry her. We were saving up to buy my way out! She wanted to move back to your family. Open the school with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth dropped the knife to her side with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huff</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “You don’t get to talk about it. About what she wanted. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio Puzo cleared his throat, and Elizabeth whipped her head around, glaring at him. He half smiled, a dimple appearing on his left cheek. It was a kind smile, but it didn’t change the determined look in his eyes. “So now that you know why we’re involved, are you willing to work with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I risk working with you? Right now, I’m just some Sheba-whore to him. If I join you, I become a spy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Puzo nodded. His involvement did raise the risk for her, infinitely. “You make a fair point. But, tell me. What’s your plan for him? I assume you have one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Elizabeth was nearly charmed by the handsome Vittorio Puzo, but his attitude changed when she attacked Leonard, when she showed an emotion beyond the uncaring sultress she played. As if he seemed to respect her less for it. She didn’t like that. “I plan to get him alone, stab and slice him between the ribs, and then cut off his cock if I have the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard muffled a chuckle at her matter-of-fact response, but Mr. Puzo seemed less impressed. “Oh?” He asked; she wanted to hit him. “And what’s your plan after that? You think his men will let you leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I expect that they’ll fill me with daylight until I stop moving, they run out of bullets, or both. I’m not a fool -- this is a suicide mission,” she replied cooly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s it? You’re going to die killing the man who killed your sister? Heroic. But what about your family? Your mother and father? Your little brother?” Mr. Puzo asked, moving his face closer to hers; she smelled like oranges and cigarettes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth finally slapped him across the cheek so hard that the sound reverberated in the alley. Leonard wasn’t sure what to do; usually, if someone tried to hit the boss, he would grab them and give them a good lesson. Beyond the fact that Mr. Puzo did deserve to be slapped, he wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on Elizabeth. She looked like a red-haired Katrina. Down to the smattering of freckles across her collarbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents will not speak to me. And my brother is wandering somewhere around Canada, shell-shocked from France,” she hissed. “You know my name — do not presume you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> else about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Puzo rubbed his cheek, “My sincerest apologies, Miss. Colvin. You are right, there is much about you that I do not know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Mr. Puzo liked the way this young woman worked; she was to the point and made no time for anything other than business. She was the kind of woman who could control herself, handle herself, and fend for herself. Finally, he pulled out his wallet and retrieved a card. He handed it to her, and she read it out loud, confused, “Kenny’s Laundry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you change your mind, call this number and tell them you want to drop off three ties for pressing. I’ll get in contact with you from there.” Mr. Puzo nodded to Leonard, and they turned to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know I won’t turn you over to Juliano right now? Get into his good books?” Elizabeth called out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio Puzo faced her and replied confidently, “You won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I do?” she challenged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, “Then you do. It’s how the game works for us; if not today, then tomorrow. But, you won’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He readjusted the crown at the end of his wallet chain, untwisting it from itself. He winked at her and left. A black car pulled up on the street, and a large, burly man got out and opened the door for the boss. Elizabeth looked at the card and slipped it into her boot, against the switchblade. She looked at what was left of the cigarette and, for the first time since she started smoking as a teen, felt too nauseated to finish it. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Begonia, Canterbury Bell, Iris, And Marguerite</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elizabeth waits impatiently for things to pick up</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A nice short chapter before a l-o-n-g one </p><p>Did you know that flowers used to be used frequently for flirting and communication? Along with "flirtation cards," young romantics in the early 1900's created their own forms of fast communication!</p><p>*This chapter contains references to gambling*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elizabeth Colvin knew how to handle herself in a game of cards. She found out when she was only eight years old, and sat on her dad’s lap as he played with the other men from the church. She told him that he shouldn’t hit on his 14 because the next card was a nine and Mr. Washington, the dealer, only had 16 and therefore was required to hit. Mr. Colvin looked at Mr. Washington, who looked at the next card and burst into laughter because the small girl was right. When asked how she did it, little Lizzy said, “Because I had learned the numbers.” </p><p>While her mother worried that she would become a degenerate and banned her from attending any more games, her father knew enough about blackjack to know that she wasn’t a degenerate; she was a genius. He got her books on chess, poker, racing, anything about statistical application he could get his hands on. He even made extra trips into the city to special order textbooks. Little Lizzy was good at math. She was in charge of the farm’s books by 10, and paid in sweets by neighbors to do theirs by 12. </p><p>When it came to betting, Elizabeth was best at blackjack. She won biggest with horses, especially when she began to learn about physics in school. The headmaster was overjoyed to have such a brilliant student that the school allowed her to attend a boarding school in the nearest city, Evansville, Indiana, for free. She lived at the sister school, but attended math and science classes with the boys. She placed small bets, keeping pocket money for herself while telling her parents that she had a job. </p><p>So when Juliano told Elizabeth that she would be at his next game, it was the first time she had felt in her element. That was until Mrs. Molly gave her a short black dress, a widow’s hat, and heels that lace halfway up her calves. She felt ridiculous. “Mr. Juliano plays a game with other men every Tuesday night, right here in The Sparrow Room.” That explained why the girls were kicked out at least. “He likes to have a girl from the club there serving drinks, but you must understand that you are there for <em> him </em>. It is not like working the floor,” Mrs. Molly told her Sunday afternoon. </p><p>“So, I serve drinks but don’t talk to anyone except him?” Elizabeth asked as she sorted inventory. </p><p>Mrs. Molly shook her head, “These men he plays with, they’re,” she paused, unsure of the right word to use. </p><p>“In the same line of business?” Elizabeth offered wryly.</p><p>“Exactly. If you were to ignore them, it would look bad on Mr. Juliano. So you need to remember that you’re there for him, but also to make him look good. You flirt with the other men, but always go back to him. Touch his chest, make eye contact with him when you talk to the others, things like that. You’re the only woman in the room for a reason.” </p><p>When she said that, Elizabeth froze. Slowly, she turned to face Mrs. Molly and whispered with wide eyes, “What’s the reason?” </p><p>When she saw the fright in Elizabeth’s eyes, Mrs. Molly chuckled and cradled her face. “No no, you need not worry about that, Lisa.” Relief washed over her entire body. “You are there to remind the men playing that, well, remind them that Mr. Juliano is winning. No matter how much he loses, he is still the man in charge.”</p><p>“So, is he not good at cards?” Elizabeth asked casually.</p><p>Mrs. Molly laughed, “He bets like you would expect him to. He even lets whoever is there take over for a few rounds!” </p><p>Elizabeth smiled. She had found her way in. She had to be careful when she did it, or he would feel emasculated and never look at her again. Or worse. But, if she played her cards right, she would be able make his fascination with her stick. And once she was stuck, she could kill him. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Elizabeth waited impatiently for a response from Mr. Puzo. The longer it took, the more stressed she became. <em> Is he setting me up? Is he going to Juliano?  </em></p><p>By Monday night, she was in a constant state of anxiety. Between preparing to host Juliano’s game and waiting for a reply, she felt ready to vomit during almost every waking minute. But she had work to do, and she was good at compartmentalization. She sat at her vanity and smiled, becoming Lisa Dawson. It wasn’t hard when she was just around the other girls, but the disrespect men showed her that she was forced to ignore, even embrace, it burned a hole in her chest with a raging fire. As she was applying rouge, a bunch of girls came into the room, squealing, “Lisa!” </p><p>Natasha entered, carrying a giant bouquet of flowers and a package. Elizabeth noted the strange combination of flowers and looked at the package. There was a note handwritten in elegant script on a thick piece of cardstock.</p><p>
  <em> Some light reading for a bright mind  </em>
</p><p>She carefully untied the silk bow and read the title: <em> The History of the Standard Oil Company </em> by Ida M. Tarbell. </p><p>“Not very romantic,” Natasha whined, looking at the cover. “He called it light reading? Who is this from?” </p><p>Elizabeth stared at the book, confused. She knew this book inside and out -- she had written her honor’s thesis on it. And it was not this thick. She opened the front cover and quickly closed it. She shrugged and studied the flowers trying to identify each one, “I’m not sure -- he didn’t even leave his name.”</p><p>“Then it definitely wasn’t Mr. Juliano. He would make sure you knew it was from him,” Darya said as she touched the petals. “And he certainly wouldn’t get such weird flowers.”</p><p>Elizabeth waited until the room was cleared before reopening <em> Standard Oil </em> . The inside page wasn’t the correct opening cover. Instead, there was a faded script in gold embossing entitled “The Language of Flowers.” She looked at the flowers and opened the page to <em> B </em> , for the pink begonias: <em> beware </em> . Next to the page number, there was a time, <em> 06:30 </em> . Canterbury bells: <em>I have received your message</em><em>. </em> By the page number, <em> Moon Cafe on 26th </em> . Iris: <em> I have a message </em> , <em> TH </em> . Marguerite: <em> I will come soon </em> , <em> Kenny </em>. </p><p>Elizabeth took a pen and scribbled out the words. A wave of calm came over her. If working with Puzo did become the death of her, it wouldn’t be yet. She called the local florist and sent a Canterbury bell to Kenny’s Laundry, charging it to the account owned by the laundromat. <em> I have received your message </em>. </p><p><em> I just have to make it through the game </em>, she thought as she finished getting ready. Mrs. Molly had given her the night backstage so that she would be top tier for the game. The most important game of her life. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Playing Her Cards Right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elizabeth takes on her role as Juliano's poker girl, which entails more than she realized</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter contains a lot of gambling and drinking<br/>Also, just for reference, $200 in 1922 is about $2,900 now!</p><p>packing heat = carrying a firearm<br/>gams = a woman's legs<br/>broad = woman, not particularly complimentary<br/>hooch = homemade liquor, moonshine<br/>bearcat = a fiery woman<br/>tomato = a pretty woman<br/>dib = take of the profits, generally illicit</p><p>Some poker terms:<br/>burned = return cards to the dealer<br/>full house = three of a kind and two of a kind<br/>bluffed = lie<br/>flush = all cards are the same suit<br/>stake = pay for another player to enter the game</p><p>incantato = Italian for "a pleasure to meet you"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mrs. Molly had two cleaners come in to scrub down the Sparrow Room. They moved the cocktail tables and booths to set up large black curtains, all surrounding one large, red velveted table. A makeshift bar was set up in the corner. Mrs. Molly gave Elizabeth a sheet of paper, “These are the names of possible men who will come and their drink of choice. They should not have a chance to tell you what they want. You get the names when they come in and serve the drinks before they sit down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth looked over the list, studying it. Mostly Italian names, with a few Irish, Russian, and Jewish. She recognized a few from her research into Juliano’s operations. Her eyes stopped about halfway down, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vittorio Puzo</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She stared at it for a minute. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t they hate each other? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought nervously. There were a few other names she recognized, businessmen and politicians. The mayor. In her hands, Elizabeth Colvin held the power to take down some of the most important men in New York City, maybe even America. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she didn’t have time for that. She had to finish primping and preening in order to greet Juliano and his “friends.” Darya had been his poker girl for a bit and warned her that a stray hair would not be accepted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was pinning the hat into place when the door to the dressing room opened. Juliano leaned in the doorway, playing with his gold cufflinks. They were ridiculously large with a square, red gemstone in the center. “Lisa?” He called in a sing-songy voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned with a bright smile and skipped over to him, “Mr. Juliano!” she responded with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, satisfied with her response, and wrapped his arms around her waist. It would have nearly been an endearing gesture had he not finished it with a sharp pinch on her butt. “You’re looking fine,” he said, enjoying how she jumped at his touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth smiled graciously and spun around. The ruffles along the trims bounced, showing off even more of her skin. “Do you really like it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano pulled her back into him and pawed at her breasts. His other hand creeped down her back and under her butt, almost at the hem of her skirt. Elizabeth leaned against him, skin crawling wherever they touched. He abruptly stepped back, shoving her away. She stumbled into the bench and sat down, pouting, “What’s wrong, Mr. Juliano? I can change if you don’t like it!” </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He glared at her, eyes narrowing into thin slits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh G-d, he knows.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He turned and opened the door; a small man in a trench coat was standing there, Leonard. He must’ve knocked, and she didn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears. Leonard paid her no mind, looking at Juliano. “What?” he commanded impatiently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Juliano, sir, sorry for the interruption. Mr. Tzchlevsky is here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jakob Tzchlevsky, vodka with one ice cube and one lime slice. “He’s early,” Juliano snapped, as if it was Leonard’s fault. He was exactly on time. He turned back to Elizabeth, “Apparently, my usual welcoming tradition will have to be postponed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His usual welcoming tradition, according to Darya, was a blowjob followed by yelling at the girl for having her makeup ruined and looking a mess. Elizabeth nodded and began to lace up her shoes, showing that she would be right behind him. She stood at the podium and opened the lockbox that the men’s money would be placed in. She pulled out a blank piece of paper and pen, waiting for men to walk in. Jakob Tzchlevsky. Lou Luciano. Sal Luciano. Vlad Forkov. Giorgio Lettori. Michael O’Rourke. Seamus Flanagan. Joey Massino. Sal Gallo. Mayor John Francis Hyland. Councilman Steven Harris. As they walked in and handed her their envelopes, they said their name. She was to check each envelope for $125 dollars, which was more than she had even seen at once before working at The Sparrow Room, and find a way to denote the owner without writing their names. If the game was raided, anything proving the men were gambling for money would see them locked up. In turn, such an event would ensure her slow, painful death. None of this was said outright of course, but the implications were not vague. So, Elizabeth had given each man on the list a number while she memorized their drinks. She wrote the number on the envelopes, and then again on the paper. After they were checked in, she handed each one his personal drink, making sure to circle back to Juliano afterwards for some form of personal degradation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Eleven men, not including Juliano, were expected. The final man came in just two minutes before the game was supposed to start, well after everyone else. When he approached the table, Juliano followed Elizabeth, holding her by the hips tightly. The man, wearing in a fine suit and subtle disapproving frown, offered no recognition in his eyes when looking at her, just a healthy appreciation for her tight clothing. “Vittorio Puzo,” he said calmly as he handed Elizabeth the envelope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t this Vittorio?” Juliano exclaimed, as if he were surprised to see him, as if he hadn’t invited him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Francesco,” Mr. Puzo replied curtly, still staring at Elizabeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A rare guest. It’s been a while, we’ve missed you at The Sparrow Room.” Juliano squeezed Elizabeth closer to him, seeming not to notice her gasp for breath as he wrapped his arms around her ribcage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been here a few times recently,” Mr. Puzo responded, politely readjusting his gaze to meet Juliano’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The muscles in Juliano’s neck strained; he had wanted to catch Mr. Puzo in a lie. “What a pity that I’ve not run into you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tension between the men was palpable in the air. Mr. Puzo had seemed gentle, perhaps even kind, when he had spoken to Elizabeth. That was gone. Now, he looked the part he played in life: a dangerous criminal. His dark eyes became black stones, and his lips looked incapable of the amused smile he had worn in her presence. His pale face was harsh and hard, like a marble statue of a man who felt nothing. Mr. Puzo was somehow the opposite of Juliano, who was fueled by rage and hate, and somehow even more terrifying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men glared in silence at one another, and the room finally felt the same stillness that had engulfed Elizabeth. The chatter, which ranged from stocks to inquiries about the family, quieted to a stop within seconds. A few of the men reached into their pockets instinctively. The game supposedly banned firearms, but Elizabeth felt one on Juliano. She assumed that every man here was packing heat, as well as their men, who all were loitering upstairs, eating, smoking, and drinking. She had sewn razor blades into the brim of her hat, if only for comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Juliano barked out a laugh and smiled widely, “Let’s get some drinks!” He smacked Elizabeth’s bottom so hard she jumped, and scurried off to grab Mr. Puzo’s drink, a glass of the Sicilian wine kept at The Sparrow Room just for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she returned, the men were already seated along the table with the dealer, an old man who spoke little English named Mateó. She walked around the table, offering to refresh each drink, smiling and giggling as the men made comments to Juliano about “his pick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t seen a red like this since my last round at Belfast!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The gams on this one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The gals all wear their hair so short now — there’s nothing to grab onto!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those tits, that’s a real pair of tits for sure!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of the so-called compliments were directed towards Elizabeth, at least not until she reached Mr. Puzo. He grabbed her wrist as she went to top his glass off with more wine, stopping her. She looked at him, confused and anxious. Every moment he was here was another moment he could expose her. “You’ve got lovely eyes, Miss Lisa,” he remarked, the warmth in his own eyes returning, if only when he looked at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blushed, ducking her head down. “Thank you, Mr. Puzo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lisa!” Juliano called, clearly angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth swayed over to him, flipping his tie around when she reached him. “Yes, sir?” she purred, running a finger along his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled at Mr. Puzo and pulled Elizabeth into his lap. She giggled, “Mr. Juliano!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed again, “She doesn’t just have a pretty face, even the parts you don’t see are good too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pinched her butt, and she turned red. Juliano assumed it was a blush, the same blush she had given Mr. Puzo, but it was simply well-masked anger. “This broad, she ain’t a </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Miss</span>
  </em>
  <span>!’” He mocked Mr. Puzo’s accent as he grabbed her breasts. “I’ve never met a lady like this!” The men laughed and jeered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Puzo did not reply. Instead, he simply knocked the table, hitting on his 16. Mateó gave him a 5 — 21. He smiled back at Juliano as the rest of the men folded their cards. Juliano’s upper lip twitched in anger as Mr. Puzo took the chips from the pot, chatting casually with Sal Gallo about the Giants, who looked good for their second consecutive World Series win. Juliano pushed Elizabeth off his lap unexpectedly; a few of the men looked in sympathetic silence as she fell onto her knees with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huff</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Councilman Harris helped her up, earning himself a nasty look from Juliano. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth brushed off her knees and looked down; her stockings had ripped. She nervously looked at him, remembering what Darya had said about how presentable she must be. Juliano did not seem to notice; he was busy bragging about something to do with a house in Long Island. She took a deep breath and ripped the stockings all the way down, pulling and ripping until she was able to take them off entirely without unlacing her heels. She looked up and readjusted her dress; only Mr. Puzo had noticed what she was doing. The moment she caught his eye, he looked back at his cards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth continued to serve drinks, carefully avoiding Mr. Puzo. She found the line when it came to flirting to get Juliano’s attention, and it was right in front of a neon sign with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vittorio Puzo</span>
  </em>
  <span> written in bold. She could feel him watching her in a way none of the other men at the table did, and she was unsure how she felt about it. Elizabeth had become too accustomed to the unfettered, unapologetic stares from men during her month at The Sparrow Room. But Mr. Puzo’s glances were restrained, as if he were embarrassed by his actions, by his desires. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lisa, baby, come here!” a drunken Juliano called for her, slapping his knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth gracefully skipped to him, sitting down in his lap before he could grab her. She could feel his hot breath on her neck as he buried his face into her thick, red, hair. “You know how to play poker?” he slurred; she felt his spit spray all over the side of her cheek. He reeked of the cheap hooch he had poured out of fancy bottles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been playing since I was a kid,” she replied, hearing her heart pound in her ears. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is my only chance. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He barked out a laugh, and she jumped. “You hear that boys? Our lovely Lisa here has been playing cards since she was a kid!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men laughed, urging Juliano to let her play a few rounds. He looked at his pitiful ration of chips left; he knew if he said no, it would look like he cared about the money. So he casually shrugged and patted her hips. “Don’t let me down.” His voice was jovial, but the steel grip he had on her thighs said differently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thanked him with a chipper smile and a kiss on the cheek. First hand, she folded right away. Second, she burned two cards and folded. But on the third, she hit a full house, nines over kings. The men congratulated her, surprised. When she folded after burning a card the following round, Juliano remarked, “You’re supposed to make it to the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe how you gamble,” Vlad Forkov laughed with a thunderous boom. “But this bearcat, she play poker!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano gritted his teeth. Though Elizabeth appreciated finally receiving a real compliment, she couldn’t upstage Juliano. To redirect his attention, she grabbed his wrist and brought the cigar dangling between his fingers to her mouth. She took a deep pull, arched her chin up, elongating her neck as much as she could, and blew the smoke into the lights. He smirked slightly, but it wasn’t enough. Elizabeth took a hold of his tie and loosened it slightly as she said in a low voice, “Perhaps I’m not as brave as you are, sir. I may need to learn how to loosen up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Juliano was all over her again, forgetting his anger. Elizabeth, grateful as she was for it, was disgusted by his narcissism. She was even more disgusted with herself as she stroked his ego — and his thigh. He placed her hand on his hard crotch over his pants, but she was able take it back to reorder her cards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She won the next hand, after raising the pot to nearly $200, on a bluffed three of a kind. Juliano and the men mocked the Luciano brothers, both of whom were tricked into folding by her. They didn’t show their cards, but Elizabeth knew that both had flushes, diamonds and spades. “I think that’s all the excitement I can take,” Elizabeth said as she slid off of Juliano’s lap, his empty glass in hand. She turned and winked at him, “For now, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the end of the night, Elizabeth felt confident that she had made the right call; Juliano was bragging about how his girls could do more than dance or sing, they were full of class too. And just the right amount of smarts for a tomato to have. Joey Massino wanted to stake her for 15% of her dib, but she declined. The satisfied grin on Juliano’s face as she returned to lean against him told her that she had done her job well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The game ended at 2:30 in the morning, nearly five hours after it began. The men left quickly and quietly, each tipping Elizabeth a fair bit of cash. When Mr. Puzo reached her, he smiled ever so slightly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Miss</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lisa.” He stressed the formality as he gently brought her hand to his lips and then placed two dollars in her palm. “Incantato</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth swallowed and retreated to Juliano’s side. He grabbed her and squeezed her wrist as he said menacingly, “Say goodnight to Mr. Puzo, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth looked at Mr. Puzo, who was staring at her earnestly. “Goodnight, Mr. Puzo,” she whispered, trying not to gasp from the burning pain radiating from his grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tipped his hat as he walked out the door, black coat hanging from his arm. The moment he was out of sight, Juliano pulled Elizabeth against his chest and whispered into her ear, “I never welcomed you to poker night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded as he led her back to the dressing room. He slammed the door behind them, laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was finished, Juliano pulled Elizabeth to her feet. He roughly wiped her mouth with the back of his hand, but he smiled as he did so. Elizabeth realized that this was his form of intimacy, that he was attempting to be kind. She smiled back, but it had taken her too long. His nearing-kind smile had disappeared and was replaced with some bastardized version that sent chills down her spine.  “I look forward to seeing you again, Lisa.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pinched her cheek and left. Elizabeth sat on the bench, trying not to cry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is good. This is a win, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she told herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But winning left a sour taste in her mouth. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Moon Cafe on 26th</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elizabeth meets Mr. Puzo to discuss working together</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>People bond over food... it's human nature<br/>(also, this chapter was written BEFORE evermore dropped and Coney Island is just a happy coincidence)</p><p>brunos = armed "thugs"<br/>"got your six" = an expression coined during World War I by fighter pilots, who denote position using the hours on a clock; means "I got your back"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thursday morning, Elizabeth snuck out of The Sparrow Room. Legally, she was allowed to come and go as she pleased, but everyone knew the unspoken rules were quite different. She stopped at the subway and took everything she had out of the locker. This was it, and if Puzo was going to turn her in, he would have everything he needed to do so. </p><p>Elizabeth arrived outside of the Moon Cafe, a small deli/diner on 26th Street, at 6:10 in the morning, hoping that she would be able to get in well before Puzo and his brunos arrived. But as she got to the corner, she saw dark figures outside of the closed diner, and she knew that he was there. <em> No time to prepare myself. No time to change my mind.  </em></p><p>She lifted her head and walked into the cafe, trying not to show how nervous she was. Mr. Puzo sat at the only table set up, an espresso cup and full breakfast, complete with a small pile of pastries, in front of him. He nodded at her as he looked up from his newspaper, and they made eye contact. Elizabeth refused to break it, staring at him until she was seated opposite. “You’re early,” he remarked with an amused smile. </p><p>“As are you.”</p><p>As he took a sip of his drink, Elizabeth realized that he was not as pressed and crisp as she had seen him before. Instead, he looked as if he worked on the construction crew across the way with his tank top and denim pants. Though the cleanliness of the clothes, as well as his perfectly shaved face, betrayed it as a disguise. He caught her staring and smirked, “Yes, Miss Colvin?”</p><p>Elizabeth frowned, embarrassed about how obvious she was being. And about how handsome she found him. “If you wanted to blend in, perhaps not meeting at a closed diner with a dozen men guarding the place would be more discrete.”</p><p>Still grinning, Mr. Puzo adjusted his suspenders, “This? This is not for you. I have other matters to attend to.” He pushed the pastries towards her, “Eat. I know they barely feed you there. The ciambella is still warm.”</p><p>She stared at the pile of fried doughs and fresh breads, salivating. He was correct; she was lucky if she got a hold of two “meals” a day. But she turned her nose up when she noticed his plate looked completely untouched. He noticed her hesitancy and chuckled, “If I wanted to kill you, do you not think this would be a bit elaborate?” </p><p>She still did not take anything. Close to laughter, he made a show of closing his eyes and picking a random pastry to take a bite of. Giving in, Elizabeth took the doughnut and bit into it, actively stopping herself from moaning. She hadn’t eaten in over 16 hours, and all she had then was a small piece of lukewarm giblets. She didn’t even realize how hungry she had been this past month, and she pulled Mr. Puzo’s plate towards her, piling a fried egg, bacon, and tomato onto a piece of toast. She shoved the food into her mouth, barely stopping to breathe. Elizabeth hadn’t eaten like this since she was back in Indiana. He sat patiently and read <em> The Gotham Times </em>, occasionally looking up with a small smile on his face and a slight twinkle in his dark eyes. </p><p>Elizabeth finished her meal and downed a glass of water. A waitress came over, nervous. “Can I get you anything else?” </p><p>Mr. Puzo held up a hand, and she looked at Elizabeth, grateful she did not have to talk to him. Elizabeth smiled kindly and said, “Tea would be lovely, thank you.” </p><p>“So, Miss Colvin,” Mr. Puzo began. “I see that you did not come empty handed.” </p><p>As he gestured towards her folder, she protectively shielded it. Then, she sighed and placed it on the table. “This is all the information I could dig up on Juliano, The Sparrow Room, and his business dealings.”</p><p>Mr. Puzo raised a brow, impressed, “You got all of this while out West?”</p><p>Elizabeth nodded, “He personally never does anything illegal that can be tied to him. But I’m sure <em> you </em> know all about that.” Unaffected, he nodded for her to continue. “Not that if he could be traced to anything, it would matter. His relationships with men in power are all but open secrets. Though Mayor Hyland wasn’t on my list until Tuesday night.”</p><p>“I had been curious why he invited me to his poker game. Until I saw you there,” he remarked, more to himself than her. He looked up, a trace of concern flashing across his face. “I hope I did not cause you any trouble.” </p><p>She touched her lips, instinctively covering her mouth. He frowned, understanding her message. Elizabeth shook her head, “Nothing that wasn’t unavoidable.” </p><p>The two sat in silence as the waitress brought Elizabeth her tea and cleared the plates in front of them. “How did you know about the book? The Tarbell book? How did you even know who I was? Does that mean Juliano knows?” </p><p>“So many questions, which would you prefer I start with?” he teased, and then quickly reverted back to a serious expression. “Well, I will handle the most pressing first; no, there is no reason to think that Juliano knows who you are. It was Leonard who told me who you were. He saw you on your first day on the floor and recognized you from one of your sister’s photographs.” </p><p>Elizabeth knew which photo he was talking about; they had gone to Coney Island when Elizabeth had come down from Imperial University to help her sister move into New York City. They took a photo on the pier, right in front of a hot dog stand, which ended up in <em> The Sun News </em> . They had excitedly bought easily a dozen papers, sending their photo and the caption, “ <em> Sisters Kat and Liz enjoying their first Nathan’s hot dogs at the original location”, </em> to their family and friends. It was the last time Elizabeth ever saw Kat. </p><p>Lost in her memory, she looked back at Mr. Puzo, who was watching with an endeared smile. Elizabeth cleared her throat, indicating that he should continue. He nodded, the dimple on his left cheek still prominent. “As for the rest, once I had your name, it simply became a matter of finding information. And I am fairly good at getting information when I want it.” </p><p>Elizabeth scowled, “Is that supposed to be a threat?” </p><p>Mr. Puzo held his hands up in surrender, momentarily embarrassed, “No, not at all! Quite the opposite in fact; you have quite the impressive resume, Miss Colvin. One of the only female Army Engineer Corps, Medal of Good Conduct, honorable discharge. And yet,” he paused studying her face, which offered nothing but a blank stare. “You returned from The War and changed your focus to journalism in your last year. Wrote your honors thesis on the Tarbell book, did you not?” </p><p>Still suspicious, Elizabeth took a sip of her tea and nodded. “As for the card? You signed it “some light reading for a bright mind.” How did you know about that?” </p><p>“That was simply good fortune: some of the correspondence between you and your family from France was saved and found its way into an archive. It appears that whenever your father sent you a new Oz story, he always signed it with such.” </p><p>Satisfied with the answer but not the reasoning, Elizabeth pressed, “And you felt you should sign it as such, why? To prove you knew things about me, my family?” </p><p>Flustered, Mr. Puzo shook his head, and she could see that even the back of his neck had turned red. “I did it as a gesture of goodwill, a sign of respect for your family. But I see how easily it would have been misconstrued. You have my deepest apologies, Miss. Colvin.” </p><p>Elizabeth studied him and found nothing but sincerity. Either he belonged on the stage, or he genuinely meant no harm. Convinced, she nodded. They sat in silence for another moment before he gestured to the research, “I will not ask to take it from you, but may my associate photograph it? So we know what you have found?” </p><p>The request was simple, and there was no real reason to say no, but Elizabeth was hesitant. On one hand, she doubted Juliano would require evidence of espionage if Puzo turned her in. On the other, did she want to give him such blatant proof? He noticed her reluctance and found it admirable. “I like that you think your decisions through, Miss. Colvin. It is important, given what you are doing. But if I were to turn you in, what would I get from it? I would lose a partner, as well as my mole in Leonard. The moment you learned of his role in this, I became just as vulnerable in this arrangement as you.” </p><p>“<em> Leonard </em>became as vulnerable,” she corrected, somewhat perturbed. “We are the ones who are risking our necks. <em> You </em> will sit back and reap the rewards.” </p><p>Mr. Puzo conceded the point; he was well aware that he often was simply moving pieces in a game, and it was the pieces that would be removed from the board, not him. Though he had given his time as such a pawn, he knew that his role was quite different from anyone else’s. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, placing it on the table. “This is a key to one of my residencies. If you desire to turn me in, give it to Juliano. It will not take him long to find out which one.” She picked it up, examining it. “Now, we are equal players.” </p><p>Elizabeth slipped the key into a hidden pocket in her coat and slid the papers over. “Nino,” Mr. Puzo waved. </p><p>A slip of a man, who had been sitting at the counter, flirting with the waitress, came over. She recognized him immediately from the club, always seated just behind Puzo. Nino nodded politely to Elizabeth and picked up the folder. He brought it to the counter and began to take photographs. <em> Click. Click. Click.  </em></p><p>“Now, let me give you some information. Juliano’s set up a trafficking ring. And the girls, some of them are, well, <em> girls </em>. Kids. We aren’t sure where he finds them or even how he moves them, but we’re sure about that. And the operation is big: Toronto to LA. The only thing we know for certain is that the women get moved through his club Paradise. I couldn’t even tell you any other players.”</p><p>Chills ran up Elizabeth’s spine. All she could think of was Kat. That maybe, just maybe, she was alive. Elizabeth was filled with an odd mixture of ecstasy and horror. There was a chance that her sister was okay. Well, not okay, but <em> breathing </em>. This time, Mr. Puzo didn’t notice her drift away, and he continued to speak. She looked back at him, “... and as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Juliano is a powerful member in our community, but he wants more.”</p><p>“He’s trying to become the<em> brute of all brutes </em>,” Elizabeth quipped dryly. </p><p>Mr. Puzo frowned, nearly offended. “You consider me a brute?”</p><p>Elizabeth ducked her head to the ground, but then looked up with too much confidence, “You are a man who has likely done horrible things to get into the position of ordering horrible things to be done. You don’t want to sell girls or hard drugs, and that’s good. But pardon me if I don’t think asking the single mother running the laundry to pay you every month for protection from your own men is a noble profession.” </p><p>Mr. Puzo stared at the table, investigating the untouched fork. He murmured something that Elizabeth did not understand. She pressed for him to repeat himself, and he looked up at her, all amusement in his face gone. “The people who pay us for protection are not asking to be protected from us.” He paused, looking back at the table, “But you are correct.” </p><p>Elizabeth felt a twinge of guilt, but it quickly went away. He was the one who asked her to consider him the lesser of two evils. Who said that he was not a good man. “You have nothing solid that you can offer me yet, right? No other information?” He nodded. “Then tell me this: what is it you do? What makes you this “morally upright criminal” you seem to think you are?”</p><p>Elizabeth heard a small gasp from Nino. She knew that she was playing a dangerous game, asking such questions. But she was already preparing to climb into bed with one mafioso without question; she saw no reason she shouldn’t know who else she was sleeping with. </p><p>Instead of anger, Mr. Puzo looked at her, amused once again. She was courageous, and he found it refreshing to be speaking with someone who seemed to hold neither fear nor malice towards him. “It started with being a protection service from other gangs around the city. Now, we run rum, mostly. Move lighter drugs. Occasionally, we’ll pass guns around. Provide unions with some help for strikes. I do have many legal operations as well; Nino is the foreman on what will be the tallest building in the Nelson District.” </p><p>“Where do the guns go?” Elizabeth asked, going into full reporter mode. </p><p>“Pardon?” Mr. Puzo seemed taken off guard. </p><p>“You said you pass guns around. You can’t honestly think that no one gets hurt from illegal guns on the street.”</p><p>Nino returned to the table, looking at Mr. Puzo, who seemed deep in thought. He handed Elizabeth back the folder and nodded his head, “Miss Colvin.”</p><p>“I should take my leave,” Elizabeth stood up, collecting her things. </p><p>Mr. Puzo stood up as Elizabeth did. It was customary, basic manners, to stand when someone else left the table. But Nino seemed surprised by the action or at least surprised by something about Mr. Puzo’s reaction to Elizabeth. He walked her to the exit, holding the door for her. He whispered something to another man by the door, who nodded and followed her back to The Sparrow Room. She knew that Puzo had sent someone, but she didn’t feel intimidated; it made her feel safe for the first time in a long while because someone had her six again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Bloodstained Invitation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elizabeth is taken on a date by Juliano, which quickly takes a horrifying turn</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter contains spoilers for 3-19</p><p>*this chapter contains gun violence and some slight gore, all cannon typical. It also mentions abortion and takes place in the 1920s so*</p><p>mug = a dumb guy<br/>lettuce = money<br/>kraut = a derogatory term for Germans</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Elizabeth slipped back into The Sparrow Room, unnoticed, a bit before 8:30. Most of the girls were just waking up; after all, they had not finished their night until close to 4 am. Elizabeth walked over to a crowd of girls, all standing by her seat at the vanity. “Did I miss something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha turned around, practically jumping, “Where were you?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without hesitation, Elizabeth replied, “Down the street at the phone -- my parents wake up early.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then you missed the delivery of these!” She dramatically waved her slender, dark arms to reveal a bouquet of dark red roses. “Your mystery man must’ve seen a matchmaker because he definitely got himself together!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused, Elizabeth touched the delicate petals. She didn’t have to look in her book to know this one: crimson roses were for mourning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is Puzo playing at?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She picked up the card and dropped it in surprise. Darya rushed to pick it up and read it aloud, “My dear Lisa, let’s meet tonight. Juliano.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So soon? Does he know I met with Puzo this morning? Is it a trap?</span>
  </em>
  <span> A million thoughts raced through Elizabeth’s mind. Most of the girls were cooing over the flowers, which were worth easily $20. Only Darya noticed the shock on Elizabeth’s face and brought her to another room. “Are you okay, Lisa?” she asked, bordering on concerned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth collected herself and smiled, “I’m just surprised! I didn’t know he liked me that much!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darya studied her for a moment, clearly not buying the story. “It’s okay, if you’re not, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> about this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth stared at her for a moment, debating what kind of emotion to show, what kind of emotion was safe to show. Before she could figure it out, Darya sat down. “So I dated one of Juliano’s men a while back, you know?” Elizabeth nodded. “And he was fine -- a little bit of a mug, but mostly harmless. Around that time, Juliano fixated on this one girl, Kat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth stopped moving. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This has to be a setup</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She could feel her heart, pounding in her ears. All the color drained from her face. Darya seemed to notice the change and looked, confused. “Anyways. Kat was from the sticks, like you, except she didn’t have the same smarts about people. She was trusting. She came here with Leonard, you know him. The skinny one who won’t look any girl in the eye? Anyways, she came here, talking about how this was how they were gonna buy his way out, and go live with her family and teach girls math and whatnot. Apparently, they had made a deal or something. But then, Juliano saw her and wanted her. And that was it. Sent her roses, took her to dinner. Didn’t matter that she had a ring on her finger. He wanted something, so he took it. Leonard’s still here, but she’s gone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth sat, waiting for the drop. For Darya to get a sad look in her eyes and apologize for her playing a part in this. But it didn’t come. “What I’m saying is, you seem smart enough to realize that this isn’t a good thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to the girl, Kat?” Elizabeth whispered meekly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sad look finally came, “I heard she got pregnant. Juliano’s. He wanted her to get rid of it, and I guess it didn’t go well. He doesn’t seem like the guy to shell out the lettuce for a real doctor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes full of hot tears, Elizabeth stood up and ran to the restroom, hyperventilating. Kat was dead. Deep down, Elizabeth had known that Kat was dead, but for an hour or so, there was a glimmer of hope. But she was dead and that was how she died, how her baby sister died. Alone, scared, and in pain. Bleeding to death. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s how Juliano will die then. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Darya didn’t follow her, and for that, Elizabeth was grateful. She didn’t need anyone to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lisa Dawson</span>
  </em>
  <span> cry like this. Not over some poor country girl who was too kind and thought that people were wholly good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Mrs. Molly heard about the flowers, Elizabeth was cleared of duties for the day and ordered her to get herself ready. As soon as the sun began to set, she was sent to sit and wait for Juliano. She sat, dressed in finer clothes than she had ever worn in her life, and waited. The longer she waited, the angrier she got at him. Not for keeping her waiting, but for what he did, who he was. By the time Juliano strolled in, reeking of a strong cologne and expensive cigars, she was furious. She decided to keep her cool and distance herself. He pulled her into his arms, smirking, “Been waiting long?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth wormed herself out of his grip, “I’m always waiting for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong? You don’t wanna wait for me?” he teased, but she offered no reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her, confused, but ignored it. In the car, he was talking, as he always did, but she didn’t stare at him, didn’t hang onto every word. “What do you want for dinner? Anything you want” he asked, watching for a response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, “You can decide. I’m fine with anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frustrated, he told the driver a restaurant and began to feel Elizabeth up. She giggled and moved his hand, but he had had enough of her coy behavior; he grabbed her by the back of the neck pulling her face so close to his that the hairs of his mustache tickled her nose. “I do not like this attitude, Lisa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to reach into her purse, pull out the knife, and slit his throat with it. But she couldn’t. Even if Kat wasn’t one of those girls, they still needed help. And she didn’t have enough information for his death to matter beyond personal vendettas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Elizabeth sighed dramatically as she leaned against him. His grip softened. “I’m sorry, Mr. Juliano.” She began to play with the suspender tucked underneath his soft coat. “I guess I just had a bad day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano grinned, moving his hand to tenderly cup her chin. He tapped her nose. “Let me make it better.” And he smashed his lips against hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a good kiss. It didn’t offer her any of the warmth or comfort he had promised. And for a man who kissed a lot of girls, Juliano didn’t know how to kiss a girl. But then again, who would tell him that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After just a moment, he was moving her hand towards his buttons. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>He is awful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He tried to push her head down, but she whispered into his ear, “I want to look perfect for you.” He liked that enough to give up on those efforts, settling back in the seat as she rubbed through his pants. The driver either didn’t notice or was desensitized to Juliano’s crude behaviors. Or too scared to show anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the restaurant, the maitre’d guided them to a private room. As Elizabeth moved to sit, Juliano pulled her into his lap. Instinctively, she tried to jump up before she realized herself. He glared at her, and Elizabeth began to apologize fervently. She tried to sit back on his lap, but Juliano shoved her to the ground, face turning red. Shaking, she stood in the center of the room as the waiter came in, carrying a plate of meat and cheese. Suddenly, Juliano smirked and whispered something in his ear. The waiter nodded and left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano looked up at her, face softened from a scowl into a malicious grin, “Sit, eat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat down across from him and took a slice of meat, watching him with anxious eyes. He was spreading some expensive jam onto a slice of warm bread when a man in a grey trench coat came into the room. “What, uh, what can I do for you, Boss?” he stuttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pour the wine,” he commanded without looking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in the coat picked up the bottle, and poured, trying to look as calm as possible. But his hand shook and he spilled a bit onto the white tablecloth.  “I-I’m sorry, Boss! Please forgive me!” he pleaded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth wanted to step in, say that it was just a bit of wine, but she knew she was already on thin ice. She sat, completely still, as Juliano withdrew a small revolver from his sports coat. He pressed the barrel against the man’s head. The man collapsed onto the ground, holding onto the table out of sheer terror. “Please spare my life! I made a mistake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And do you know what that mistake is?” Juliano pressed the barrel harder against his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spilled your wine?” the man guessed, unsure of what else he could have done to receive such a reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a good answer,” Juliano replied as he cocked the gun. “However…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boss, I can pay for the wine! No matter the cost, I’ll pay for it!” the man sobbed as he gripped the tablecloth so tightly, it slipped, spilling a glass of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano’s lips curled into a cruel smile. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something. The man whimpered. Anything Juliano said was lost in the deafening sound of a gunshot. The man in the grey trench coat collapsed into a heap on the ground. Blood exploded across the room, splattering the wall behind Elizabeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat in her seat, frozen. Juliano leaned back in his seat, smirking as he propped his feet up on the dead man’s back. “Have you ever seen a dead body, Lisa?” he asked, still wearing that malicious grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Elizabeth nodded, unable to take her eyes off the rapidly growing pool of blood. She had forgotten just how much blood a person has, and five liters is a lot to watch drain from a corpse. Juliano raised a brow, surprised. He pressed, “Where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“France,” she whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano clapped loudly with glee as he leaned forward; she jumped at the sudden sound piercing the deathly silence. “Ha! My gal, a patriot! Fighting those damn krauts!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano stood up, wiping a bit of blood off his shoe onto the man's coat. “Come on, Lisa. This room doesn’t suit us anymore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth stood up numbly and looked at the body one more time. She began to say a prayer, but she realized that she didn’t even know his name. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We need to open a window. Open a window to let his soul out. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She left, following Juliano into a clean room, where she pretended as if nothing had happened. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Business Operations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After taking the final step to seal herself as a part of Juliano's life, Elizabeth is able to learn about his business... but perhaps it's worst than they realized</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter contains spoilers for 3-3, 3-4, and 4-15<br/>this chapter contains sex, drugs, and alcohol use, as well as canon-typical crimes (idk how to not spoil?) </p><p>also, a reefer is Old Timey way to say joint and I want that word to come back.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sex with Francesco Juliano was like any other activity with him: he managed to make it incredibly unpleasant for others while making it about himself. A small, depraved part of her had wanted to enjoy it some, hoping that some bit of her life could be pleasant, if only for while it happened. She hated herself for the thought.</p><p>When he finished, he climbed off Elizabeth’s naked body with a loud grunt and laid in the bed next to her, casually lounging against the headboard. He grinned as she turned to face him. “How are you feeling, babe?” he asked, an absurd amount of ego dripping off every syllable. </p><p>Elizabeth pressed herself against his body, her varnished nails drawing circles on his chest. He had unbuttoned his pants and shirt but didn’t take anything off. But she was completely bare and cold. “Like never before,” she said dreamily, and it was true; she had never felt so disgusted with herself. </p><p>He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her, embracing her momentarily, “Well, go get me a cigar and drink, and we’ll see if you get to feel that good again.” And just like that, he shoved her away. She looked at him, shocked. He waved his hand, as if to say “Get going.” </p><p>Elizabeth went looking for her dress, but he stopped her, “No no no, don’t put anything on.” </p><p>She looked at her bare body nervously and walked to the other side of the room towards the bar cart. She could feel his eyes burning a brand onto her backside. Though he had stared and touched her before, there was something especially uncomfortable about this exchange. Of all the times he had demeaned her in public, this private moment stung the most; it was completely for him. He was not trying to show off and using her to do so. She wasn’t just <em> an </em> object at that moment; she was <em> his </em> object. </p><p>She poured two drinks and downed one of them before pouring herself another. Juliano laughed, “Attagirl!” </p><p>She returned, and he lit the cigar, pulling her back against him. He seemed to enjoy how Elizabeth had tucked her cold body against his warm one, as he ended up draping an arm around her. Elizabeth had barely eaten that night, as she had completely lost her appetite. But her three drinks were catching up quickly to her empty stomach, and she felt herself getting more and more intoxicated. </p><p>He finished his drink and placed it on the bedside table, passing her the cigar. She took it and coughed; he laughed and had her take another drag. Patting her back as she wheezed, he said, “Do you like it? It’s from Asia. Laced with dope.” </p><p>Elizabeth gasped and tried to sit up, but her head was already clouded. She knew plenty of people who had turned to opium when they returned from the War -- it helped with everything from physical aches to mental pains. But she had also seen another student waste away all his money and drop out of Imperial because of it. Juliano laughed at the horror on her face. “Don’t worry, Lisa baby, it’s not like hitting the pipe. It’s not as strong. It just relaxes the body like a reefer. But better.” </p><p>Elizabeth was starting to panic a bit as her head became increasingly heavy. Juliano put the cigar on the table and turned over to her, slobbering on her neck. She wanted to push him away, but between the drugs in her system and his weight on her, she could barely move. She froze, preparing herself mentally; but Juliano was unable to keep an erection from the same drugs stopping Elizabeth from moving, and he was unable to assault her as he desired. So instead, he wrapped Elizabeth up in his arms, grinding against her bare body with disgruntled huffs until he finished on her back. Eventually, he passed out on her, leaving her unable to move while he snored into her neck. </p><p>Elizabeth didn’t sleep very well. She had ended up finally passing out, thanks in large part to the opium she didn’t know she was smoking. But it was a short-lived and restless sleep, even after Juliano rolled off of her.</p><p>In the morning, Juliano would not let Elizabeth put on her clothes from the night before, reluctantly allowing her one of his shirts instead; even clean, she could smell his aftershave, consuming her. At breakfast, he pulled her onto his lap, and this time she did not hesitate, smiling as she sat. He fed her pieces of sausage off a fork, enjoying himself as they listened to the radio. “The New York Police Department is investigating the homicide case in front of the Sultry Skies Club fives days ago…” </p><p>Juliano tightened his grip around Elizabeth as he stopped feeding her, an empty fork pointed at her throat. His grip relaxed and he dropped the cutlery as the radio announced that no progress had been made in the case. She threw her arms around his neck and nuzzled into him, “What’s wrong, Mr. Juliano?” </p><p>She could feel him grin as he reached under her loose shirt. “That’s not what you called me yesterday, sweetheart.” </p><p>Elizabeth kissed his neck and purred, “What’s wrong, <em> Francesco </em>?” </p><p>“Nothing to worry about. Let’s continue,” he replied and jabbed another piece of meat with the fork.</p><p>“If you need to leave and sort something out, don’t worry about me.” </p><p>“Someone made a short-sighted decision that will delay some of my businesses, but it’s nothing I need to deal with myself.” His tone made it clear that this was the end of the conversation.</p><p>But Elizabeth sat up, feigning surprise as she placed a hand on his chest. “You have businesses besides The Sparrow Room?” </p><p>He chuckled as he dropped the fork and reached for her chin, always taking an opportunity to brag. “I’m a great businessman, my dear. Didn’t you know?” </p><p>Elizabeth blushed, “I guess I should’ve known. You’re too smart to just want to work with girls like me all day.” </p><p>He undid a few buttons of the shirt, exposing Elizabeth’s bare breasts. He smiled as he thumbed her nipple and said, “Just be a good girl, and I’ll show you a life worth living.” </p><p>She smiled back and cocked her head, trying to look as innocent as possible as she asked, “Are your other businesses like The Sparrow Room?” </p><p>He laughed again, “They are far more than that. But my main business involves pretty girls like you.” </p><p><em> He admits it so easily! </em>Elizabeth frowned, ducking her head. “Do you treat them like me?”</p><p>He tapped her nose, smirking. “Oh no, no my silly girl. You’re my special gal. Not every girl gets to live like you and the other girls at The Sparrow Room do. We treat girls like you best.” </p><p><em> We’re treated the best? </em>“You have other clubs with other girls?” </p><p>He smiled, mocking her, “The Sparrow Room isn’t my most lucrative business. It’s Paradise.” He squeezed her nipple until she jumped, fighting back a yelp. “Do you know what a man’s idea of Paradise is?” </p><p>Elizabeth knew all of this already. She needed new information. So she nodded bashfully and dropped her hand onto his upper thigh. “Why don’t you like the girls there? Why do you like me?” </p><p>He grinned arrogantly, eager to brag. “There are lots of girls there. After all, every customer has different tastes, and we must strive to satisfy <em> all </em> requests. Some like them old, some like them young, and some like them … even younger.” He winked. “Age is just a number, babe. I have all types of girls from all over the world. That’s just part of the luck of living in The Melting Pot that is New York City. All the flavors you can imagine, just walking the streets on their way from work or school.” </p><p>Elizabeth couldn’t contain the horror on her face. Luckily, Juliano just assumed she was scared for herself. He patted her chest as he buttoned the shirt and picked up the fork again. “You have nothing to worry about as long as you’re my girl, Lisa.” </p><p>She accepted the morsel with a smile, rubbing his thigh. “Of course Francesco. I’m glad we’re together.” </p><p>He slapped her ass, telling her to get off his lap. She got off, following him to his room, where he shoved her down on the bed and climbed onto her.</p><p>Juliano gave her a new dress to wear; it matched the color of his bedsheets and clung to her like wet silk. He drove her back to The Sparrow Room. She walked down the street and sent a bittersweet and black-eyed susan to Kenny’s Laundry: <em> truth </em> and <em> justice</em>. </p>
<hr/><p>Elizabeth sat in the Moon Cafe, waiting for Puzo impatiently. They had agreed that meeting times would be 6:30 am or 5 pm. It was 5:03. </p><p>Finally, Puzo walked in, flanked by Nino and another, much larger man. Without acknowledging her, they seated themselves at the booth behind her. The doorbell jingled again as Leonard walked in. He sat opposite Elizabeth. She stared expectantly at him. She heard Mr. Puzo whisper behind her, “Apparently, Juliano has decided that you need some protection.”</p><p>Elizabeth glanced around the room, trying to figure out who in this busy diner had come in at the same time as her. Leonard nodded his head to a burlish man in a trenchcoat at the counter. “Is that a good thing?” she asked Leonard. </p><p>He shrugged, but his face said no. “It means he’s making considerations about you.” </p><p>She paused, taking a bite of her sandwich. “What does it mean that you are here?” </p><p>“I’m always working at the club. If I befriend a girl, it’s no big matter. Not until Juliano calls you off-limits.” </p><p>Elizabeth’s lips puckered. Even when he wasn’t around, Juliano managed to make her feel like some belonging, as if she wore a dog tag with his name around her neck. “And Juliano won’t care that Mr. Puzo is conveniently seated behind me?” </p><p>She heard a light chuckle behind her, “I regularly frequent this establishment; the owner was my neighbor as a child. But, it is also close enough to The Sparrow Room that it is no surprise that Leonard would meet you here.” </p><p>Elizabeth nodded, somewhat skeptical, and continued to look at Leonard. “Juliano told me a few things. Apparently, he gets his,” she swallowed, uncomfortable. “He gets his girls off the streets. Said he grabs them while they’re walking home from school. Others while they’re leaving from work.” </p><p>Leonard nodded, taking shorthand notes. “He said that?” He made no attempt to hide the horror from his voice. </p><p>She nodded. “I’m sure that if you look at a list of missing girls, they’ll all go to school in the same area.” Mr. Puzo whispered something to himself, and Elizabeth pushed, “What?” </p><p>“What do you know about Councilman Steven Harris?” </p><p>“He was at the poker game, and Juliano gave to his campaigns.” </p><p>“He also gave to a charity that funds a local girls’ welfare school,” he added flatly. “You’ve connected a lot of pieces, Miss Colvin. The next time we meet, I will make sure that it is in a manner that allows for more conversation, and I will explain everything then.”</p><p>Mr. Puzo and his associates finished their coffee and pastries, leaving. Elizabeth sat opposite Leonard, who was trying to avoid her gaze. Finally, he looked at her, “What is it you want to say to me?” </p><p>She narrowed her eyes, considering for a moment. “Why did you let Kat go to The Sparrow Room?” </p><p>He sighed, “She knew where I was working. She got it into her head that we could make a deal; I get out if she works at the club for free for a bit. I tried to talk her out of it, but, well, I guess you’d know best how she was.” </p><p>Elizabeth nodded, catching herself smile for a singular second. “And when Juliano… when he… when <em> she </em>…” she didn’t know how to finish. </p><p>But Leonard knew exactly what she was talking about. “The boss, Mr. Puzo, he saved my life. I was ready to kill Juliano. But he made me realize that wasn’t how to do it. Juliano, he knows where my entire family lives. My whole family owes their lives to him.” </p><p>Elizabeth swallowed a bite of her food. <em> Everyone except Kat </em>, she wanted to say. Instead, she said, “I found out that you had proposed to her.” </p><p>Leonard smiled, despite himself. “She didn’t want to tell anyone until I got your father’s permission. But she wore my mother’s ring.” </p><p>Elizabeth nodded. She finished her meal and stood up. Leonard paid for the food and escorted her back to The Sparrow Room. Darya gave Elizabeth a sideways glance when she returned with him, but did what she did best and minded her own business.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Possession</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Time passes as Elizabeth struggles in her life as Lisa Dawson, and Juliano becomes increasingly aggressive and possessive over her.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter is a tad intense at points, tags definitely apply!<br/>I'm going to make a comment on the bottom that lets anyone who wants to skip the last section (which starts with Leonard taking Elizabeth to a hotel) know the important plot points</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elizabeth’s life became somewhat routine over the next four months. Juliano had arranged that she only had to work half the week at The Sparrow Room; she spent the rest of her time with him. He had stopped attacking other girls in the club, so no one was too upset that she was receiving special treatment. A few even took to pitying her every time he sent for her; it was getting cold out, and Juliano enjoyed fucking her in the alley behind the club. </p><p>Elizabeth often accompanied Leonard to The Moon Cafe or other diners and delis. As long as she left with Leonard, Juliano never sent anyone else to follow. Although “Lisa” had been deemed off-limits, that seemed to not apply to Leonard. After everything that had happened with Kat, he trusted Leonard around his women.  </p><p>She stayed Juliano’s poker girl. Every other Tuesday night, she was in The Sparrow Room, the only woman in a room full of drunk men. Juliano had taken to making sure they disappeared about halfway through the night for a blowjob. He liked the respect the other men showed when she would return with the back of her hair messy and a faint red stain from smudged rouge around her lips. They would chuckle and ask when they would find a girl like her. Then, Juliano would pat his legs wordlessly for Elizabeth to sit on his lap, and he would grope her while saying, “I’ve trained this one well, don’t you think, Vitto?”</p><p>Puzo had become a regular at the game. He told her one day, “I have never taken to the way Juliano and many of these men treat women, and they find it amusing.” </p><hr/><p>Elizabeth sat in a villa, drinking tea. Laid out on the table in front of her were the posters for over twenty missing girls. All but four were from the same school: Gotham Charity School. The school was funded by a charity run by Councilman Harris. “It’s impossible to think that not a single cop put this together,” she whispered in horrified awe. </p><p>Mr. Puzo shook his head, “Even if one did, the entire brass is owned by Juliano, one way or another. Legal methods will not work.” </p><p>“So what? Even after we kill Juliano, who’s to say this operation would fall apart? Just because he’s the Big Shot doesn’t mean that the system is so fragile that it would collapse without him,” she argued. </p><p>Mr. Puzo sat for a moment, thinking. Elizabeth continued, “We have to find a way to expose it so openly that even the most corrupt cop <em> has </em> to do something.” </p><p>She picked up files and started to look through pages, muttering to herself as she took notes. Puzo looked up and stared at Elizabeth, watching her with a smile on his face. A piece of hair fell in her face, and before she could lift a hand, he pushed it behind her ear. She looked up at him, shocked. He cleared his throat. “My apologies,” he whispered. </p><p>Elizabeth felt the way Mr. Puzo stared at her, how badly he wanted her. Juliano did too; whenever he brought Elizabeth to any event that Mr. Puzo would be at, he was extra handsy and even more aggressive. One night, Juliano pulled Elizabeth from the dance floor to their table. “Is everything alright, Francesco?” she asked dutifully. </p><p>He drunkenly fumbled with a small vial, tapping cocaine onto her finger. He preferred to take his drugs in her company. Juliano pushed Elizabeth to try it, but she simply giggled and kissed him, rejecting his pressure as best she could. Finally Juliano, angry and high, slapped Elizabeth so hard across the face that she fell onto the ground. Although the band kept playing, anyone who saw it went silent, staring at her as she clutched her cheek with wet eyes. “See what you made me do?!” he yelled, his face turning red. </p><p>Nodding, Elizabeth got onto her knees and crawled to him, resting her face in his lap as she rubbed his arm. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake; he had never hit her in public and he certainly never hit that hard. </p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Puzo standing, staring at her from across the large, round table. His jaw was clenched, and he didn’t take his eyes off of her. Juliano noticed it too, and he pulled Elizabeth up to her feet and dragged her over to him. “Do you have something to say to me, Vitto?” Juliano snarled. </p><p>Elizabeth hid halfway behind Juliano, staring at her feet. Puzo rolled his eyes and sat back down, casually waving his hand, “I was curious about the commotion, that is all.”</p><p>“Lisa, babe.” Juliano pulled her in between them. </p><p>“Yes?” she whispered. </p><p>“Do you wish to spend the night with Mr. Puzo here?” he asked, grinning devilishly. </p><p>Her head shot up. “W-w-what did you just say?” she stuttered, confused. </p><p>“Frank-” Mr. Puzo interrupted, but Juliano held up his hand. </p><p>“I asked if you wanted to spend the rest of your night with Mr. Puzo,” he repeated, still smiling. </p><p>Elizabeth shook her head so quickly that her hat fell lopsided. She grabbed his lapel, looking up at him with the biggest eyes she should make. “Baby, I’m sorry if I upset you-” she began.</p><p>Juliano shoved her away, clearly still angry. She crashed into the table, spilling drinks over her dress as she took the tablecloth with her. Finally, the noise was enough to stop the room. Sticky and sopping wet, Elizabeth didn’t know what to do. She looked up at the two men, who were glaring at each other. Brunos on either side were reaching into their pockets, ready for a gunfight. “I don’t want to come to blows over this,” Mr. Puzo said calmly. </p><p>Elizabeth stood up on shaky legs and held onto Juliano’s arm, trying to calm him down. “Frankie, come on.” </p><p>He ignored her, pushing her aside again. She stumbled back; another girl caught her and began to pick glass out of her hair. “Over <em> what</em>?” Juliano growled.</p><p>Mr. Puzo shrugged nonchalantly, “We agreed to disagree on how you treat women a long time ago, Frank.” </p><p>Juliano grunted and grabbed Elizabeth by her forearm, gripping so tightly she gasped. He smacked her butt and glared at Puzo. “Lisa, do you not like how I treat you?” </p><p>She shook her head, “Frankie, let’s go. I need to clean up.” </p><p>He squeezed tighter. She squeaked from the pain and covered her mouth, terrified. “That’s not an answer, dear.” </p><p>She smiled and wrapped her free arm around his chest. She reached up on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re too good to me, baby. You put up with so much.” </p><p>He turned, still not letting go. He dragged her away to the elevator. They were staying in a room in the hotel. Once they were alone, he finally let go. She didn’t have to look to know that his hand had been branded onto her skin like a red tattoo. She stripped down, removing the soaked dress as Juliano crushed something up to pour into his drink. “Do you not like Mr. Puzo, Francesco?” she asked, trying to sound as ditzy as possible. </p><p>“No, I want to kill him,” Juliano replied casually as if he were ordering lunch. He looked up at her, face twisted into an odd combination of glee and impatience. “Does that scare you?” </p><p>Elizabeth paused for a moment, choosing her words very carefully. Half naked, she walked over to him and kissed his forehead. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you, baby,” she answered. </p><p>Juliano liked that answer, enough to pass out from whatever he took without second-guessing.</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Leonard picked Elizabeth up from The Sparrow Room and brought her to Juliano’s hotel room. He occupied the top penthouse, which boasted a large shower that Juliano enjoyed watching Elizabeth use. Though he had properties all over Brooklyn, he loved to throw his wealth around, and frequently moved from location to location just because he could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment she walked into the room, Juliano began attacking Elizabeth’s neck, grinding against her. She smiled sweetly as she turned to face him, placing a hand on his chest. “Francesco, baby, I’m not really feeling up to it right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano smiled back, but it sent chills down her spine. “Is that so, Lisa?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without another word, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her towards the bed. She cried out in pain as she stumbled behind him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. Holding her by the neck, Juliano threw Elizabeth down on her back, her feet kicking the air as they hung off the bed. He wrapped both his hands around her throat and pressed his knee on her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth writhed under him, gasping for air. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Frankie-</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she choked, trying helplessly to push him off, legs flailing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano’s lips curled into a vicious smile as he squeezed until she couldn’t speak anymore, just wheeze pathetically under him. There was a knock at the door, followed by Leonard’s anxious voice, “Mr. Juliano, sir, the car is ready. Apparently, there is traffic leaving the city.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano weakened his hold long enough for Elizabeth to suck in a few desperate breaths of air. He called through the door, “Prepare my things, I will be there momentarily.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano turned his attention back to Elizabeth and tightened his grip again, laughing as she wordlessly tried to beg for him to stop. Through his devilish grin, he said calmly, “I want you to understand something: you belong to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lisa Dawson.” He yanked her skirt up and pushed her knees apart. “The only reason you are not thanking me for my cock </span>
  <em>
    <span>this very moment</span>
  </em>
  <span> is that I have business elsewhere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears were forming in the corner of Elizabeth’s eyes as her head got heavier and heavier. Juliano pressed his knee harder against her chest as he ripped the bottom of her chemise away, exposing her. He grabbed her, and she squirmed as his rough hands touched her bare skin. She tried to move away from him, but Juliano had her completely pinned down. “This all belongs to me.” He kissed her, pulling on her lips with his teeth. “And I take whatever I want, whenever I want. Ya follow, babe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to answer, but she couldn’t get the words out. He pushed his fingers inside of her, wrapping them around her pelvic bone and pulling her hips off the bed. She tried to scream in pain, but couldn’t get the breath out. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You are mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, savvy?” he repeated himself, clearly losing patience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth nodded as best she could, turning blue. Juliano released her and stood up, smoothing out his suit. Gasping, Elizabeth tried to sit up, but she was too dizzy to do more than clasp her neck and roll onto her side. He leaned forward, chuckling as she flinched. He wiped her tears and pinched her cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow, doll. Wear that pink number I got you, it’s the real cat’s pajamas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left the hotel, leaving Elizabeth on the bed, still struggling to breathe. Leonard walked in and helped her sit up. Panting, she leaned against him, trying not to sob. “I’ve been told to take you back to The Sparrow Room, but we’re allowed to stop for dinner,” he said after a few minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He helped her to the car, sitting in silence as they drove. “Take me to Mr. Puzo,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>Leonard nodded and made the next right turn. Every moment he glanced at the shaking woman next to him left him drowning in a horrible <em>déjà vu</em>, and both of them knew it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Selfish Desires</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elizabeth is angry and feels like she has no control over herself, so she looks towards Mr. Puzo for a sense of autonomy</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally, another Vittorio/Elizabeth chapter! And oh my, do they do more than awkwardly look at one another and brush hands?? Who knew that was even possible?</p><p>consumption = tuberculosis, which was incredibly common in tenements<br/>polo neck = original name for a turtleneck</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sex with Vittorio Puzo was not what Elizabeth expected. Though his rough face had always approached her with a certain air of gentleness, she figured that deep down, he was just a less cruel version of Juliano. That he still held the same selfish desires. But from the moment she bursted through his door, she realized that she was wrong. </p><p>She threw herself into his surprised arms, sobbing angrily. Without question, he wrapped her up. After a minute, he asked softly, “Are you alright, Miss Colvin?” </p><p>Hearing her name sent another wave of anger shaking throughout her body. “Say my name again,” she commanded quietly through gritted teeth. </p><p>“Elizabeth Colvin,” he whispered as if it were a secret. It <em> was </em> a secret. </p><p><em> I am my own person. I am Elizabeth Colvin, and I decide what I do </em>. She began kissing his neck, and while he did not stop her at first, he eventually grabbed her wandering hands by the wrist and asked gently, “Are you sure that you want to do this?”</p><p>“I am Elizabeth Colvin, and I decide what I do,” she replied and kissed his lips before he could respond. </p><p>Suddenly, the dam broke open, and Vittorio pulled Elizabeth against him and kissed her fervently, as though he was scared that she would disappear in front of him. Despite his obvious desperation, every touch was a gentle caress. He held her like glass, like he was scared that he would break her if he kissed her chest too hard or squeezed her too tight. </p><p>Elizabeth removed his waistcoat and began to unbutton his shirt. He stopped, breathless, “You don’t have to-” </p><p>Grabbing a handful of his hair, she cut him off with a kiss, pushing him against the wall. He grinned and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her through a door into his room. </p>
<hr/><p>Elizabeth pressed herself against Vittorio, face in his bare chest. He held her close, and she knew that he would stay like that for as long as she stayed. He rubbed her back or kissed her shoulder every few minutes, as if he were surprised that she was still there. “Miss Colvin-” he whispered into her ear. </p><p>Elizabeth laughed; it was the first time he heard her real laugh, and he committed its cadence to memory. She looked up at him. His face was soft, and he stared at her with stars in his dark, brown eyes. “I think we’ve made it to first names, don’t you?” </p><p>Vittorio turned red, somewhat embarrassed. He cleared his throat and began again, “Elizabeth, are you alright?” </p><p>She looked away, now the embarrassed one. She had known that he found her attractive, but it wasn’t until she had acted on it did she realize that he actually cared for her in that way. She had figured that his attraction to her was just because she was something pretty that Juliano had; she was wrong. She sat up, moving a bit away from him. Covering her chest with the sheet, she chose her words carefully, “Juliano said some things, did some things that angered me.” </p><p>Realizing what was happening, Vittorio nodded, covering himself with a blanket that had been kicked off of the bed. “Are you hurt?” he asked, unable to mask the concern. </p><p>It was dark enough that Vittorio had been unable to see the bruising on her neck, so Elizabeth shook her head, “I just, I needed to feel like my own person again. Like I was making decisions for myself. He,” she looked back at Vittorio, who was listening earnestly, despite the clear hurt on his face. “He told me exactly how he owns me. Made it very clear that if he didn’t have business to attend to, he would’ve, um, <em> interfered </em> with me and expected a smile when he was finished.” </p><p>Vittorio reached his hand out, covering hers wordlessly. Guilt consumed Elizabeth as she looked at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize it, that you… I’m sorry. I was being selfish.”</p><p>He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He brought her hand to his lips before saying, “You are not the first woman I have been in bed with. However, I have never had a woman apologize to me afterward. A record I would like to continue.” Elizabeth chuckled, and his eyes lit up for a moment at the sound. “Stay, eat dinner.”</p><p>“You don’t have to-” she began. </p><p>“Stay and eat. There is no reason for you to go back there, not yet. Do you like sarde? I was going to have sarde a beccafico, I will let the chef know to make more.” </p><p>Elizabeth blushed, “I don’t know what that is.”</p><p>He grinned, tapping her hand a few times. “You will love it.” </p><p>He got out of the bed, leaving her to get dressed alone. Elizabeth looked around the room, admiring the paintings on the wall. She saw a photo on the table and picked it up. Immediately, she recognized Vittorio, who looked no older than thirteen. He was smiling widely as he helped balance a younger girl on his shoulders. Three other children, another boy around Vittorio’s age and two toddlers, were also in the photo, along with who Elizabeth assumed to be his mother and father. They all looked like spitting images of the mother; high cheekbones, sharp jawlines, deep-set eyes, and thick, black hair. “I do hope that you are more secretive when you search through Juliano’s things,” Vittorio teased lightly from the doorway. </p><p>Embarrassed, Elizabeth gently placed the frame back on the table. Though Vittorio was dressed in his usual wear, his hair was still a bit messy and his face a bit flushed. Smiling nostalgically, he crossed the room and picked it up, running a finger over the woman’s face. “What are their names?” Elizabeth asked. </p><p>He pointed to the girl on his shoulders, “That’s Stella. And in front of us is my brother Raffaello and the twins, Stefano and Michele. And then those are my parents. When this was taken, I believe that we had not been in America long, maybe a month?” </p><p>She had never seen him so obviously <em> human </em>. No chipped marble smile, just a man looking at his family. “Do they all still live in the city?” </p><p>Vittorio swallowed and set the photo down; Elizabeth bit her lip, regretting her question. She looked at the somber expression on his face and took his hand, squeezing twice before dropping it. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “It’s just me and Stella now,” was all he offered. “Dinner is almost ready.” </p><p>They sat in a large room in silence, save for the sound of their cutlery scratching the plates. Sarde, as it turned out, meant sardine in Italian. Before becoming Lisa Dawson, the only seafood Elizabeth had eaten was from lakes and streams, and even that was limited. Upon hearing this, Vittorio laughed, “I used to go down to the docks and steal prawns with my cousins from the time I could run from the workers!” </p><p>Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, “I can’t imagine the smell.” </p><p>He spoke about where he was from, a small coastal town in Sicily. Elizabeth listened with wide eyes as he spoke about running around the beach as a child, laughing at stories of the trouble he got into. The more he spoke, the more Vittorio lit up. Elizabeth watched, smiling and laughing with him. No awkward glances, no hushed tones. They sat and laughed. </p><p>Eventually, the stories led to where all stories led then, the War. “Your brothers, did they fight?” Elizabeth asked cautiously. </p><p>Vittorio shook his head, “They all died before it. Stella is a nurse though, and she was in France.” </p><p>She nodded, “What about you? Where were you stationed?” </p><p>He paused, and she knew what he was about to say, “I did not serve.” He could feel her judgment, her anger, vibrating the air. “But not for why you are assuming; I was not eligible due to my birth. As an Italian national, I was considered an enemy alien.” </p><p>Elizabeth raised a brow, “You’re not an American?” </p><p>Vittorio grinned and shrugged, “It had never come up. I was already thirteen when we arrived, and it seemed too time-consuming a process to be beneficial.” </p><p>Somewhat angry, Elizabeth dropped her fork and slapped her palm on the table. “You gave up your ability to vote because it seemed <em> time-consuming </em>?!” </p><p>He paused again; he had never thought of his choice in that light. “I supposed that I did.” </p><p>She sighed, “Men often do not realize how lucky they are to have their rights handed to them.” There was a moment of silence before Elizabeth looked up again, “But you said your sister was in France?” </p><p>At the mention of Stella, Vittorio seemed hesitant to continue. Finally, he sighed, “You mentioned that your brother was in Canada, working off his shell shock?” She nodded, surprised that he remembered. “Well, Stella never really… she never adjusted after what happened. I tried to keep her here, with a caretaker to watch her. But after she nearly killed the second… It was either put her in the hospital or risk her doing something that got her or someone else seriously hurt.”</p><p>Elizabeth nodded sympathetically. She knew a few men who had ended up in institutions, and more who had at least tried to kill themselves. But never a nurse. “It was good that our parents never saw her like that. Would have stopped my papà’s heart…” he trailed off. </p><p>She wanted to ask about the rest of his family, how they went from seven down to two. But she felt as though she had lost the right to ask such personal questions after she used him the way she did. He must’ve been able to read as much on her face. He smiled somberly, “You can ask me anything. I promise I will be honest with you.” <em> I want you to know me.  </em></p><p>She sat for a moment, trying to figure out the right words. Finally, she settled on, “Your parents and brothers, how did they die?” </p><p>It was a bit blunter than Vittorio was expecting, but he didn’t mind avoiding the awkward parts of death. The euphemisms, the constant apologies, the cliches, they were too much for someone like him, someone constantly surrounded by death. “My mother and the twins died of consumption not long after we came to the States. My father was injured at the docks, and he died of an infection about a year after that. Raffaello,” finally there was a crack in his calm recitation. “Raffaello was killed by Juliano a year before the War broke out.” </p><p>Elizabeth gasped involuntarily, grabbing his hand. He stared at the top of her hand, clasping his. She noticed and went to pull it away, but he stopped her. “Your hand is cold,” he whispered. </p><p>She nodded, suddenly very aware of both his warmth and that the top of her neck was creeping out of her polo neck. They sat like that for an eternity. Finally, Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Leonard should take me back,” she said softly. </p><p>Vittorio gently removed his hands, the tips of his ears slightly pink. Elizabeth stood up, smoothing out her skirt. He jumped to his feet, getting her coat. As he helped her into it, he noticed fresh, purple bruises sticking out of her collar. He touched the marks lightly, and Elizabeth rapidly stepped away from him. She turned and faced him, daring him to say something. Instead, he brushed his fingers along her cheek gently, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Pulling her in for an awkward hug, he said, “I’m here, if you need anything.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I felt like it was always so out of character for Vittorio to put Stella in such an awful place... so we #lostgeneration-ed that shit in (I'm sorry it's such a fascinating time period to me, and I consider it very analogous to modern America. And I'm the writer so.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Overwhelming Pressures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Juliano continues to push Elizabeth, and she nears her breaking point. In order to keep her cover -- and her life -- she may need to abandon up her morals</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>dish = attractive woman<br/>close your head = shut up<br/>bim = woman<br/>step off = to be hanged</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Juliano turned away from the mirror above the bar cart, his tie crooked. Elizabeth sauntered over to him, already a bit tipsy, and neatly tied his bow. He lifted her up by the waist and swung her around, and she laughed, genuinely enjoying it. There were random moments, fleeting as they were, that Juliano was kind. Sometimes, he rubbed her shoulders, brought her a cup of tea at night, or even just kissed her forehead. And for that second or so, Elizabeth could breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gently placed her on top of his desk. “Close your eyes,” he said excitedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Elizabeth did as she was told. She heard a drawer open and some rummaging. Finally, she felt him stand over her. “Keep them closed, and hold out your hands!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed a small box in her hands. Elizabeth opened the box and took out a small key. She knew this key. It was a hotel room key. She froze, staring at the key in shock. Thinking he had stunned her into a joyful silence, Juliano grinned arrogantly. “You’re leaving The Sparrow Room, baby! I got you a room right below mine. You’re living large now!” She still didn’t say anything, and Juliano’s glee quickly soured. “Well? Don’t you have something to say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth snapped back to reality, letting the tears fall freely. She threw her arms around his neck, “Oh Francesco! I don’t know what to say!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He relaxed, back in his natural element of being fawned over. He laughed, “Silly girl, you can start by saying thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kissed and thanked him over and over again. Smiling widely at him as he boasted about her room, all she could think about was how utterly and completely fucked she was. Without The Sparrow Room, she would never have a moment alone. Sure, many of the girls were cold, and the men were rude, but she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She could relax. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How will I get out? Meet Vittorio? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She realized. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my G-d, I’m trapped here. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve already spoken to Mrs. Molly, and your stuff is packed and ready to go. I’ll send someone to pick it up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” she jumped; this would be her last chance to send a message until G-d only knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like being told ‘no.’ Elizabeth softened and squeezed his hand. “I want to say goodbye to the girls! Plus, we share things all the time, so I want to make sure that everyone’s belongings are with the rightful owner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw no reason to refuse the request, and so he gave in. A mischievous twinkle suddenly appeared in his eyes. He began to unbuckle his belt, kissing Elizabeth. Juliano lifted her off the desk easily. Sloppily kissing her neck, he pulled out his cock and pushed her head down. Reluctantly, Elizabeth got down on her knees as he stroked her hair and moaned, “That’s a good girl.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. She moved to get up, but Juliano roughly grabbed the back of her head, keeping her there with a threatening command. Grinning maliciously, he called out, “Come in!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Vittorio walked in. At first, he seemed unable to fully comprehend what his eyes were seeing. But then, his already pale face turned ghostly white. Juliano thrusted hard in Elizabeth’s mouth and she gagged, but he wouldn’t let her move. Vittorio reached for his gun, preparing to shoot him between the eyes; Juliano was lucky that he had surrendered the weapon when he had entered the townhouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano stepped back behind the desk, finishing onto Elizabeth as he held a clump of her hair in his fist to keep her from turning away. She shakily rose to her feet, clutching herself. Juliano was laughing from behind the desk as he pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket and handed it to her. Tears in her eyes, she tried to clean herself up. “Vitto! You’re early,” Juliano jeered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled Elizabeth next to him, and she tried to make herself as small as possible as she stumbled into his arms. “Frankie, I should get going, let you men talk business,” she said, trying not to let her voice crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are your manners, Lisa?” Juliano laughed again. “Aren’t you going to say hello to our guest?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned her by the shoulders to face Vittorio, who still hadn’t recovered his color. “Good afternoon, Mr. Puzo,” she whispered to her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he heard you,” Juliano growled, making Elizabeth flinch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth looked at him. His face had turned to stone again, completely blank. But even behind his marble mask, she could tell that he was run down and completely exhausted. “Good afternoon, Mr. Puzo,” she repeated, still hugging herself, trying to disappear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio swallowed and finally let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He nodded slightly, “Have a pleasant evening, Miss Lisa.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano grabbed her from behind and spun her around. He kissed her loudly before smacking her butt. “Tell Leonard to take you to The Sparrow Room and collect your things. I’ll see you for a celebration dinner tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth smiled and nodded. As she was walking out, she heard Juliano say, “Ain’t she a dish?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth closed the door and was suddenly face-to-face with Nino Ricci. She startled, still shaking. He looked her up and down with a pitiful look in his eyes. Elizabeth’s bottom lip began to quiver, and she pushed past him, walking as quickly as she could to the bathroom. When she was finally alone, she vomited into the toilet and cried. Juliano hadn’t done that to embarrass </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, no. That was about what had happened two weeks ago at the party. But there she was, stuck in the middle, used as a weapon, and treated like a commodity. She dry-heaved over the toilet, but there was nothing left in her to come out. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She sat in the passenger seat, next to Leonard. Supposedly, he had been taking her to get her to a pleasure resort for the day. In reality, they were leaving another one of Vittorio’s residences. He had barely looked at her, and Nino wouldn’t look at her at all. But they had a lot to talk about, as Elizabeth had found a ledger and was able to memorize the last three months' worth of pages. Living with Juliano did have its perks. Leonard sighed, “I heard what happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stiffened. “And?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you wanted to talk or something like-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Close your damn head!” Elizabeth snapped. “Why would I want to talk with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>? You’re the whole reason I’ve had to do all of this!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard grimaced and finished his sentence, “I’m here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth wanted to feel bad for lashing out, but she was too angry. It was either become angry or scared, and she knew that if she was scared, she would die. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Drink it, Lisa,” Juliano laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frankie, I’ve barely eaten!” Elizabeth giggled, pushing the cup away from her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For just a moment, a menacing look flashed across his face. He placed the cup in her hand and whispered into her ear, “I don’t want another scene like the one we had, do you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled graciously, listening to her heart pound in her ears. Elizabeth took a sip, looking up at him for approval. He nodded, tilting the drink back into her mouth. As soon as the cool liquor hit her stomach, her entire body warmed up. A minute or so passed, and she felt her heart rate jump. She tugged on his sleeve. Juliano turned away from the conversation, glaring at her. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby, what was in that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, patting her back. Instead of responding to her, he looked at his friends, and said mockingly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What was in that</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Lisa, babe, that doesn’t matter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth forced a smile, trying to laugh along. She jumped at the sound of his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the men said with a salacious grin, “Come on, Boss. Just tell her. She’ll owe you one I bet!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano didn’t like his joke. He asked menacingly,“What, you think that’s funny, Alvaro? Think I need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>convince</span>
  </em>
  <span> my bim to give it up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alvaro panicked, “No, not at all, Boss! I just, I’m not sure what I meant. I was-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano picked up Elizabeth’s hand from the table, which was shaking from the amphetamines, and placed it on his crotch. They were alone on their side of the table. “Francesco,” she whispered, not sure how to complete her sentence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, Elizabeth lightly touched his chest and said, “I don’t want your men to see how we are when we’re… </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano barked out a laugh, patting her leg. “Keeps me grounded!” He said to his friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth excused herself to the dressing room. She stared at her face in the mirror; she was sweating profusely and unable to stop shaking. She had taken small doses of drugs before, given by doctors. But whatever Juliano gave her was a lot stronger. Her teeth chattered, and every noise made her jump. She heard the doorknob turn and stiffened. She did not have it in her for it to be Juliano. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t. Vittorio slipped in so neatly that had she not been watching through the mirror, she wouldn’t have known he had entered. “Elizabeth,” he began quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re speaking to me?” she interrupted without turning around. Through the mirror, she could see his face drop in shame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, for it all.” He paused, letting his sincerity fill the room. “Are you alright? You’re shaking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew that if she answered, she would break into tears. Every part of her was on high alert, pulsing, bursting. So instead, she replied, “You need to leave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please. He can’t see you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have him see you,” she whispered, trying not to let her voice tremor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and left just as quietly as he came. Elizabeth sat in the dressing room as long as she could, and then she left, trying to compose herself. When she returned to Juliano, he pulled her onto his lap. “Baby, I was thinking we do something special tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned into his chest to avoid looking at him, “What’s the occasion?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano slipped his hand into the cut-out of her dress and touched the small of her back. She jumped, and he grinned, “You’re dancing like you’re about to step off, aren’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She forced a laugh, and Juliano believed it to be real. He knocked her onto her feet and stood up, wrapping his arm around Elizabeth’s waist. He brought her back to his permanent hotel room, which was only one floor above hers, and pulled out a box of cigars. He waved Elizabeth over, and she fawned over the intricate gold filigree on the box. He laughed, patting her head like a dog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth realized that Juliano’s good mood was due to nothing other than her finally giving in to his constant pressure to take his drugs. He poured her a drink and dissolved a powder into it; she took it without hesitation. Juliano raised a brow, surprised. “For such a smart cookie,” he began, pulling her against his broad chest. “It took you a long time to realize that it’s always best to just listen to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart pounded in her chest as a rush of warmth spread through her body. Everything was getting heavy, but she had to admit that she didn’t mind the feeling. It was a calming heavy, the kind felt after a good nap. It was the kind of heavy that let her mind finally rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the morning, instead of offering her coffee, he held out two pills to her. Elizabeth stared at them, still heavy from the night before. Juliano grinned, holding his hand still. She swallowed her pride and the two pills in one gulp. Juliano pinched her cheek, “I like this new attitude, Lisa.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and nodded, accepting the praise and subsequent kiss. It was all she could do.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Vittorio sat at his desk, comparing the notes Elizabeth had brought him the previous week. He was attempting to understand the code written in the margins of a Bible when the phone rang. At first, he thought nothing of it. But when he saw Nino’s face, he walked over and held the receiver between the two. Elizabeth’s hushed voice came out, “Oh my G-d, I think he’s going to kill me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino looked towards Vittorio for a response, but he was still. Though he knew this was a possibility, his mind had forbidden him from considering it. But now, it was thrusted upon him, and he was frozen. Nino responded calmly, “Can you get out?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-n-no. The door is locked,” her voice cracked, and Vittorio felt his heart lurch as she whispered, “I’m scared.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat and croaked out, “It will be alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino patted his back and took over, “Do you remember the plan to get here without Leonard?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t-” she paused. “He’s coming. I have to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hung up, and Vittorio listened to the dial tone ring. “We have to get her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boss, we don’t even know where she is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Then find her</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino shook his head, “Boss, whatever is happening, our men sniffing about Juliano’s places ain’t gonna help her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio sighed; Nino was right. He usually was about such matters. There was nothing to do but wait. That was all he could do. Wait and pray.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Broken Crystal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elizabeth, bruised and battered, seeks out Vittorio for safety and comfort</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oddio = oh my G-d (Italian)<br/>gowed up = high/under the influence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vittorio sat in the room, staring at the fire dancing with an empty stare. He hadn’t moved much since the call last night. Nino had tried to get him to at least eat, but he wouldn’t. He just sat and smoked, switching between staring at the fire, the window, and the phone. She said that she needed help. She may have said other things, but the panic in her voice numbed him beyond cognition. Nino was also on the phone, and he made sure that their part of the pickup would go according to plan. She had said she was scared, that Juliano was going to kill her. That was yesterday morning; for all he knew, she was dead or dying. And he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t protect her. He could never protect her. </p><p>The bell on the front door rang twice and he jumped up, shaking. Nino knocked on the door to his study and he ran to it, staring at Elizabeth. </p><p>This was Elizabeth. No bright makeup, none of the flashy things Juliano liked for her to wear. Nothing that marked her as Lisa. She wore an ill-fitting nurse’s uniform, with her long red hair tucked into a white cap. Her head was down, but he could tell that she had been crying from her haggard breath. She was clutching her gloves, rocking from foot to foot. “Do not disturb us,” Vittorio commanded Nino, who looked ready to leave. </p><p>He moved to take her hand, but Elizabeth pulled away and wobbled to the couch, clearly in pain. “Have a glass of water,” he offered. </p><p>She shook her hand dismissively and waved at his wet bar. Vittorio checked the grandfather clock in the corner: 10:37 am. But he knew what it was like to need a drink, so he said nothing as he dropped two whiskey stones into her cup. She finished the drink greedily and clutched her empty crystal cup to her chest. </p><p>Vittorio watched her patiently, sitting as close as he felt could be appropriate. After a few minutes of silence, he asked softly, “Are you alright?” </p><p>He watched her face pucker as if she had bitten into a lemon. Her entire body tensed up, and then suddenly, glass in her hands shattered from her grip, cutting into her hands. She gasped and looked at Vittorio, quickly looking back at the ground when she saw the disgust and anger on his face. It wasn’t at her, but what <em> he </em> had done to her. Juliano had left Lisa, his Elizabeth, with a fat lip and an eye swollen shut. Trying to regain his composure, Vittorio said through gritted teeth, “Stand up and take off your coat.” </p><p>“No, I can’t,” she replied quietly. </p><p>Vittorio looked at her helplessly, “Elizabeth, you’re covered in glass. You need to take it off so it can be cleaned.” She shook her head, still not looking up. “You’re being ridiculous, it’s just a coat!” She refused, and he sighed, “Fine, then at least come with me into the washroom so I can get the glass out of your hands.” </p><p>When she stood up, glass fell silently onto the rug, catching the light from the fireplace. She followed him to the bathroom, numb. He rolled up her sleeves as best as he could, staring at the blue and purple marks up and down her forearm. She still refused to look at him, ashamed. Vittorio pulled the pieces of glass out of Elizabeth’s hands, gently cleaning the gashes. After the last piece was gone, he bandaged her hands and whispered, “You shouldn’t need stitches. I can check again before you leave.” </p><p>Elizabeth nodded, staring at the ground. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. </p><p>Vittorio smiled and placed his hand on her face, the side without bruising. “You didn’t do anything wrong, bella.” He wasn’t talking about the crystal. </p><p>She collapsed into him, sobbing while she gripped his lapel as if she were drowning. He gently wrapped his arms around her back, rubbing softly as he rocked the two of them. She winced at first, but melted into his touch. After a few minutes, her sobs quieted down. Vittorio kissed the top of her head and untied her scarf. He took off her coat and shook it out before disappearing for a moment, passing them off to get them cleaned. He brought her into a different room, his office. </p><p>Vittorio’s desk was immaculate, with papers stacked high and orderly. The entire office looked as if it was part of the Macy’s showroom floor, never even used. It was how he had run his life; everything was organized and unattached. </p><p>They sat on the thick leather couch, Elizabeth still clinging to him. “What happened?” He asked again, this time, prepared for an answer. </p><p>She didn’t answer right away, trying to find the right words. As if there were the right words for it. “I didn’t listen to him,” she replied, not wanting to elaborate. </p><p>Her vagueness frustrated Vittorio. He needed to know more. Not because he could do anything about it, but to punish himself. Punish himself for letting her take it this far. For planning on taking it further. He looked at the bruising on her neck, <em> Oddio! </em> He could see the individual finger marks. He had never wanted to kill Juliano so badly. Not like this. Every man he had buried, even his own brother, had agreed to the deal. They knew the game that they were playing. But to Juliano, this was how he treated a woman who said she loved him. A jolt of fear ran through his body as he questioned whether Juliano knew.  <em> No, if he knew, he would make a show of it.  </em></p><p>He automatically pulled her in closer, closer than they’d even been when it had been just them. Not Lisa making Juliano jealous. Not a flapper flirting for tips. Not that angry, just-for-touch sex. He knew that she was aware of it as well, since she had adjusted herself to fit in with him, two puzzle pieces lining up perfectly. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent. Orange peels, rum, cigarettes, and sweat. “You don’t have to keep doing this,” he heard himself say, though he wasn’t sure what he was talking about yet. </p><p>“I need to,” she replied, moving her hand across his chest. </p><p>His heart skipped a beat at her gentle touch. He had resigned himself to an unrequited, quiet, love. It was all he deserved after all he’s done. The gift of her presence was more than he deserved. And being around her brought him more joy than he had felt in a long time. Their previous rendezvous was the result of anger and goading, she had told him all but. He grabbed her hand, fighting the overwhelming urge to pull her onto his lap, and kissed the white bandage. “You don’t have to finish him off. You can go. I’ll make sure you’re safe. You can go somewhere, anywhere, and I’ll protect you.” </p><p>Elizabeth stared back at him, smiling. Her lip cracked, and a thin line of blood pressed against the healing skin. She shook her head, “You’re wrong; I do have to finish this.” </p><p>Vittorio breathed in her scent and absorbed all the heat coming off her frail body, tucked so completely into him. He pulled her hand back to his lips and kissed her palm, and then the purple on her wrists. He jumped over to the back of her neck, gently running his lips over every mark Juliano had left on her perfect skin. He wanted to fix each one, to cover up each memory, to replace them.  </p><p>Before he realized it, she was sat up, straddling his thighs. “Vitto-“ she began, eyes closed. </p><p>“Anything,” he whispered, burying his face in her neck. </p><p>“I can’t,” she replied, barely audible. </p><p>Immediately, he sat straight up, took his hands from her waist, and gently slid her off his lap. He stood up, rubbing the growing scruff on his chin. He normally was completely clean-shaven, and she had never even seen him with stubble. “Of course,” he said. “I was being presumptuous. Why would you..?” </p><p>He looked at her, sitting on the couch. This wasn’t Lisa, but it wasn’t the Elizabeth he knew. This woman was scared. Fractured. Uncertain. She wasn’t able to sleep at night, constantly terrified that any moment, the man next to her would find out who she was and snap her neck. She chain-smoked to breathe and drank to force herself to eat. Based on how she was at their last encounter, she seemed to have even dipped into the very drugs they were working on limiting. “You didn’t come here for me, you came for yourself. To be yourself.” He sat back down, appropriately distanced, and placed his hand next to hers, “No matter what, I meant it. Anything. Anything I could ever do, I will for you.”</p><p>Tears formed in her eyes as she squeezed his hands. “I just need to be a person right now. I need to feel like a person again.”</p><p>“Talk to me then, as a friend. What happened? Was it because of..?” He trailed off. He had tried to wipe the image from his mind. Of her looking up at him, on her knees while Juliano cackled, hand gripping a chunk of her hair. Of her trying not to cry as he goaded and gloated her.</p><p>She smiled sadly and shook her head. “No. No, that was just for you. Payback for the party. I was simply there.” </p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry anything has happened to you because of me.” He wanted to cry, but he was too angry. Vittorio rested his hand on her knees, squeezing slightly, “What was it? You can’t just bottle everything up. You need to feel something, something other than silent hatred.”</p><p>“So spoken hatred is better?” She responded wryly. </p><p>He chuckled a bit, “According to il padre it is.” </p><p>“The priest of a mobster, exactly who I take my advice from,” she laughed, punching his arm lightly. </p><p>He looked at her face, excited by her smile. A bit of blood dripped into her mouth from the cut, and he saw it. Again, silence took over the room, nothing but the crackling fire to cover the sounds of their racing hearts. Elizabeth dabbed the blood with her sleeve and fiddled her fingers. After a moment, she began, “It started yesterday morning. I had just gotten out of the shower. I wasn’t thinking, not about where I was. Yesterday was going to be hard, since,” she paused. </p><p>“It was Katrina’s birthday,” Vittorio finished; Leonard had mentioned it.</p><p>She nodded, “Yeah.” They sat in an unofficial moment of silence before she continued. “Juliano, he came up behind me. Nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times before. Nothing most people wouldn’t to their,” her face puckered again in disgust, “sweetheart. But I wasn’t thinking. And he put his arms around me, and I got scared. Punched him and made his nose bleed.”</p><p>A bit of fear overtook her voice as she moved on, “I tried to convince him that I was still gowed-up, but he wouldn’t hear it.” Vittorio sighed as she confirmed his suspicions; she had been taking something. “That’s when he did this,” she gestured to the bruising on her face and to hidden marks on her ribs. “I guess I hit my head or something, because when I woke up, I was on the bed. That’s when I called you.” </p><p>She stopped, taking a sip of water. With each sentence, the growing fear dissipated from her voice, replaced with a dead tone, completely detached from the story. “He came in and,” she ducked her eyes down, unwilling to finish the sentence. Vittorio felt his hands cramp; he realized that he had balled them to fists so tight, the skin across his knuckles had turned from white to pink. </p><p>“I was dumb, I shouldn’t have tried to talk to him. He didn’t want to hear anything, not even an apology. He choked me out just to get me to shut me up. When I woke up again, I was locked in this tiny closet, left like a fucking pair of shoes. He came in and out of the room all day, just...” she gritted her teeth. “He fucking <em>poon-fed </em>me. Said just because I needed a lesson didn’t mean that my ass should suffer too.</p><p>“You know the worst part? The pitch fucking black every time he shut the door wasn’t the worst part. Every part of my body hurts, and it wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that I was there, <em> begging </em> for his forgiveness. Crying, telling him that I loved him. Fucking anything and everything I could think of. I actually said that it was my fault that he was doing this, apologized for causing <em> him </em> the stress.”</p><p>She didn’t realize, but Vittorio had wrapped her in his arms again. She wanted to cry into his shoulder, but now she was the one who was too angry. “You did what you had to do,” he tried to soothe. </p><p>It didn’t work. She stood up, fuming. “That’s the worst part! I wasn’t lying. <em> It was my fucking fault! </em>”</p><p>“No!” Vittorio cut her off. “It was not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”</p><p>“I forgot to be Lisa,” she whispered as she sat back down, burying her face into her hands. </p><p>“You aren’t Lisa. You don’t have to be, not unless you want to,” he replied. </p><p>“Yes. Yes I do. Because if I give up now, he wins. He gets to do <em> that </em> to me and nothing happens to him. So I have to be Lisa.”</p><p>Vittorio nodded, understanding. That determination, that pride, it was one of the first things he fell in love with. The woman knew the world was set against her, and she decided to show the world what a huge fucking mistake that was. He hugged her. She didn’t move away. They sat, wrapped in each other, until she abruptly stood up and said, “I’ll be missed.”</p><p>Elizabeth grabbed her jacket and scarf, which had since been cleaned and pressed, and tucked her hair back into the hat. She walked out, and Vittorio prayed that he would see her again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Roarin' 20s</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elizabeth enjoys the Gatsby side of the 1920s, though perhaps a bit too much</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it took so long! I kept re-writing this chapter because I just never liked where it went.<br/>But there is a surprise guest!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Elizabeth returned to her hotel room, there were two massive bouquets from Juliano waiting for her, as well as a formal gown that boasted an unfashionably high neckline.</p><p>
  <em> My dear Lisa, come and celebrate with me.  </em>
</p><p>It was the closest to an apology she had ever received from Juliano, and yet she felt no satisfaction from it. On the back, there were directions on when to be ready and what he wanted her to wear with the silver dress. She had a few hours, most of which she finally slept. She spent nearly an hour covering up the bruises with makeup; she ended up embracing dark circles and covering her eyelids in charcoal. Juliano usually stood over her shoulder, correcting her appearance. She paired the dress with gloves he had given her, a set that covered the deep cuts on her hands as well as the bruises up her arms. After putting down a glass of sour wine, she smoked a cigarette and met Juliano in the lobby. </p><p>He spun her around and gave his approval with a pinch on the cheek. He brought her to the party, where he fed her drinks and drugs and kept her firmly on his lap for most of the night. Not willing to risk anything, she did not fight him on the matter, instead kissing his neck and laughing at his jokes.  </p><p>“What are we celebrating?” Elizabeth slurred, legs wrapped around his waist. </p><p>In a good mood, Juliano sipped his drink and answered, “An investment I made paid off.” </p><p>Elizabeth moved to stand up, but he tightened his grip on her hips. “Where are you going?” he asked, though what he actually meant was “You are not going anywhere.” </p><p>She laughed and hit his chest playfully, “Celebrating is no fun without dancing!” </p><p>Juliano smiled and followed her to the floor. Laughing, <em> genuinely </em> laughing, Elizabeth swung around, throwing her hands in the air, completely out of sync to the music. When the band finished its song, which was also their set, she cheered loudly. Juliano stepped away and watched her, amused. A different band took up the beat, and she danced to the sounds of them tuning their instruments. She swirled and twirled until she tripped over her own feet and fell into his chest. For a moment, Elizabeth was lost in her bliss and when he caught her, she forgot that it was Juliano and wholly melted into him. Elizabeth took a deep breath in, expecting the spicy musk that surrounded Vittorio. Instead, she could taste Juliano’s expensive cologne in the back of her throat. Nearly gagging, she pushed him away. </p><p>Juliano glared at her, holding onto her shoulders. Heart pounding, Elizabeth ran away into the powder room, where she subsequently vomited a bottle’s worth of liquor. The door opened, and Elizabeth froze, head tucked between her knees. “Are you alright?” a woman’s voice rang out. </p><p>Elizabeth shakily rose to her feet, using the wall as support. The woman towered over her, pristine, brunette, and concerned. Elizabeth hiccuped and swallowed, “Perfect.” </p><p>The woman looked her over with a sour taste in her mouth and guided Elizabeth to a seat in front of the mirror. “You should pace yourself a bit. You nearly threw up on your date.” </p><p>Elizabeth laughed at the idea and then caught herself, looking up at the woman in horror. Confused, the woman sat on the bench next to her. “Are you alright?” she repeated, but it meant something different now. </p><p>“What’s your name?” Elizabeth asked instead. </p><p>“Charlotte,” the woman answered as she rummaged through a bag. She produced a handkerchief and dampened it before proceeding to clean up Elizabeth’s face. “And you are?” </p><p>“Lisa,” Elizabeth replied, though she was unable to conceal the disappointment in her response. </p><p>The woman wiped the smudged charcoal away from Elizabeth’s eye and paused, looking at the bruise. “Do I know you from somewhere?” Charlotte asked. </p><p>Elizabeth realized that she did. This was Charlotte Harris, daughter of Councilman Steven Harris, and fellow alumni of Imperial University. She had been a teaching assistant in a few of Elizabeth’s general engineering courses. Elizabeth also realized what they were celebrating: Councilman Harris’s reelection. This was the investment Juliano was referring to. Elizabeth shook her head politely and said, “I doubt it. But maybe we’ve run into each other before?”</p><p>Charlotte pursed her lips and continued to clean up Elizabeth’s face. She pulled out her own charcoal pencil and paused, “If you need help, I know places for women-”</p><p>“There’s no need for that,” Elizabeth interjected quickly, looking towards the door anxiously. “I should get going anyway. I left rather abruptly.” </p><p>Charlotte nodded, disappointed.  She walked with Elizabeth out, where Juliano was waiting, smoking a cigar. Elizabeth went to stand by him, but Charlotte stopped her. She looked at the light bruise on the bridge of Juliano’s nose and back to the marks on Elizabeth’s face. Elizabeth stared at her feet, trying to make it clear that she did not enjoy the situation. Juliano put on a charming smile as he grabbed Elizabeth’s forearm and pulled her against him. “Miss Harris, how kind of you to help my Lisa out.” </p><p>She was reluctant to let go of Elizabeth. “It was not an issue, Mr..?” </p><p>Juliano held out his free hand, “Mr. Francesco Juliano. I’m a business associate of your father’s. Be sure to give him my <em> personal </em> congratulations.” He turned away from her completely, “Lisa, we should get you back if you’re ill.” </p><p>Elizabeth nodded, eager to leave Charlotte’s presence, g-dforbid she suddenly recognized her. </p><p>In the car, Juliano said nothing, keeping his hand firmly on her thigh. She tried to get him to talk, but he shut her down quickly. Finally, she gave in and leaned against his chest, passing out before they even reached his townhouse. </p><p>In the morning, Juliano called a hungover Elizabeth into his office. “Would you like to explain yourself?” he asked, scolding her like an angry parent. </p><p>“I think I simply overindulged,” she whispered meekly, staring at his balled-up fist. </p><p>Juliano stood up, but thankfully, the phone rang. He picked it up and waved Elizabeth over to sit with him. She complied. </p><p>“You spoke to my daughter?!” a man’s voice came over the wires. </p><p>Juliano began stroking Elizabeth’s hair. Calmly, he responded, “Your daughter spoke to me.” </p><p>There was a pause, “Your girl’s behaviors raised some brows last night, Mr. Juliano.”</p><p>Elizabeth froze, but Juliano paid it no mind, continuing to run his fingers through her red tresses. “I deal with my own, my good councilman. You can deal with yours,” and with that, he hung up the phone. </p><p>She did not move. Juliano picked up the cigar he had been smoking, still petting Elizabeth. “Did you hear that, my dear?” She nodded. “It appears that you embarrassed me.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry-” Elizabeth began, but Juliano held an uninterested hand up in her periphery. </p><p>He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her head back, exposing Elizabeth’s throat. He picked up a letter opener and ran the cool metal against her skin, smiling as chills overtook her body. “Go get me coffee,” he whispered into her ear, nipping at her neck. </p><p>Elizabeth nodded and ran off, panting. Juliano’s games should have stopped affecting her like this by now, but that was not so. His threats were never empty. There was always a chance that one day he would decide to slit her throat, maybe just because he was bored. <em> Perhaps not just out of boredom. It would ruin his suit </em>, she thought wryly. </p><p>When she returned, he patted his desktop for her to sit on, passing her a cigarette. As he lit it, he paused, grabbing Elizabeth’s wrist and twisting her palm upwards. The cigarette in her hand fell, the lit end bouncing off her bare foot painfully. “What is this?” Were it not for the steel grip he had on her, he would’ve seemed worried. </p><p>Wincing slightly, as she was still heavily bruised, Elizabeth chuckled nervously, “I broke a glass is all.” </p><p>Juliano ran his fingers over the cut, pressing into her palm until she subconsciously tried to jerk her hand from his. “When?” </p><p>“Yesterday.” </p><p>Juliano smirked, finally moving the conversation where he had wanted to all along. “And where did you go yesterday? After our <em> special time </em> together had concluded, of course.” </p><p>Elizabeth wanted to smack the smile off of his face, but she couldn’t. For the first time, she wasn’t sure if her restraint came from self-control or fear. She knew what to say, of course, it had all been planned. “I went to the laundry, and then slipped out for lunch with my friend who works nearby, Riley. I’ve mentioned her before -- she’s from Ireland, you know the girl?” </p><p>She prattled on longer than necessary, but Juliano was not satisfied. Something was off, and Elizabeth could feel her heart pounding. If he were to try to touch her, he would know that she was nervous, and he was clearly already suspicious of something. So, she took control, touching his forearm gently. “Is everything alright, Francesco?” </p><p>Relaxed, Juliano shook his head. He pulled her foot up, running his finger in a circle around the small, fresh burn. He kissed her ankle, moving his hand up the inside of her leg. “Remind me who you belong to, Lisa,” he whispered, looking up at her. </p><p>Smiling, Elizabeth wrapped her legs around his waist as she pulled him up to her lips. “I’m all yours, baby. All yours,” she replied, closing her eyes so that he couldn’t see as they filled with tears. </p><hr/><p>Juliano left Elizabeth alone for a few days, not even sending for her during meal times. At first, she thought nothing of it; in fact, she was relieved. But by the eighth day, she was getting nervous that he had grown bored and had decided to move onto someone else. </p><p>On the tenth day, Juliano appeared at her door. He made no small talk; instead, he unceremoniously pushed her against the wall and pulled up her skirt. When he had finished, he walked over to the bar she kept for him and sat in the chair, waiting. Elizabeth rushed over and began making him a highball, a bit frazzled. “I thought you’d forgotten about me,” she said, running her nails lightly across his arm.</p><p>He pushed her hand away, reading the paper intently. “You’re coming with me to a party tonight,” he said as he picked up a second paper, clearly searching for something.</p><p>“Of course! What is the occasion?” </p><p>Juliano did not look up, distracted. “Business. Wear something tight.” With that, he stood up and left. </p><p>When Juliano picked her up, he was still distracted. As they arrived, he loosened up slightly. Enough to pull out a tin of small pills. He chose three and crushed them together, pouring the majority of the powder into her glass. Elizabeth looked up at him, “Babe, I haven’t had anything in a while. I was thinking I’d take it easy, especially after last time.” </p><p>Juliano tilted the glass to her lips, and she swallowed obediently. He smiled and nuzzled into her neck, whispering sweet lines as she giggled, trying to relax. But there was something different tonight; she could feel it bristling in the air. </p><p>Whatever it was that Juliano had given her, it made her feel good. Excited, energized, <em> happy</em>. She pulled on Juliano’s arm, “Come dance with me.” </p><p>Though her insistence to dance usually worked -- why would he give up an opportunity to show her off -- he brushed her away. After the third attempt, Juliano snapped, “Go find someone willing to dance with you! I have business to attend to.” </p><p>Elizabeth was not surprised to find herself feeling hurt; moments such as these were the only ones where she did not need to put on an act. She could dance and enjoy herself, if only for a bit. Her eyes scanned the room, and she skipped across the floor, watching her mark. </p><p>She slid into an empty seat, resting a hand on his thigh as his back was turned. Vittorio turned to face her, shocked. He placed her hands on the table and whispered harshly, “What are you doing?” </p><p>Elizabeth moved right back to her position, squeezing his thigh with a breathy laugh. Vittorio coughed into his drink as she smirked. “Liz,” he warned weakly. </p><p>She looked at him insistently, and he finally met her glazed eyes. His face dropped, immediately concerned. He lifted a hand and brought it right next to her cheek, stopping himself before he could touch her. “You’re high. What did he give you?”  </p><p>Waving her hand nonchalantly, she replied bubbly, “I never get to know. But,” she paused, moving her hands up to his arms as she pulled Vittorio to his feet. “He told me to find someone who was willing to dance with me. And don’t you want to dance with me?” </p><p>Vittorio swallowed nervously, following her. The song was nearly finished, and a much slower song was beginning. She pulled him closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “Elizabeth,” he whispered. “You’re going to get yourself hurt.” </p><p>She took a deep breath, enveloping herself in his scent. Melting into his chest, she didn’t want to answer. “He’s getting bored of me, Vitto. And if he’s done with me, then everything we’ve done, <em> I’ve </em>done, will be for nothing. So I need him to be interested again.” </p><p>As she said this, Vittorio felt his heart drop. “And dancing with me will interest him,” he finished. </p><p>She saw the look on his face and realized what she had said. She shook her head, “That’s just a bonus.” Smiling, she stepped out for him to spin her. “We’ve been doing this out of order. I ought to feel scandalized, knowing <em> this </em> is our first dance.” </p><p>Vittorio fought back an embarrassed smirk, which quickly disappeared as he saw Juliano crossing the floor. Vittorio nodded respectfully and stepped back, “Frank, Miss Lisa had informed me of her need for a dance partner.”</p><p>Juliano glared at Vittorio’s polite smile and turned his attention to Elizabeth, who was too intoxicated to realize how dire her situation had suddenly become. “We must get going, <em> now </em>.” </p><p>Elizabeth shrugged his hands off of her. She turned to face him, stumbling as she stepped. “No. I still want to dance.” </p><p>Juliano shook his head, trying to stay calm. People had begun to look, expecting a scene. “Lisa,” he hissed. “We are leaving.” </p><p>She pouted, “You left me all alone for over a week! And now that you finally take me out, you leave me all alone! I wanted to dance, so I’m going to dance!” </p><p>Elizabeth stomped her foot and turned away. Juliano grabbed her arm and dragged her into the corner. Vittorio stood, watching helplessly as she tripped over her own feet. “Listen here,” he growled. </p><p>“No!” Elizabeth interrupted. “You can’t leave me, and then when you finally take me out, you pop me full drugs, and what? You go, I’ll take a cab back!” </p><p>The crowd watching grew, and Juliano looked around. Whatever business he had been working on that night, he needed to keep his calm for it to succeed. So instead, he laughed loudly, pulling Elizabeth against his chest. “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking about you, babe. Let’s dance,” he said, smiling, though there was a malicious glint behind his dark eyes.</p><p>They did not arrive back at the hotel until nearly 3 in the morning. Coming down from her high, Elizabeth stumbled, heels in hand. Still drinking, she clung to his arm, giggling as she tried to take off her coat. “Frank-<em> hic </em>-kie!” she squealed as he wrapped his arms around her. </p><p>Expecting him to undress her, she lifted her hair so he could access the buttons. Instead, he grabbed her by the neck and shoved her into the wall. Blood gushed out of her nose as she shakily rolled onto her side, spinning. </p><p>Juliano sat on the bed, waiting for Elizabeth to pull herself up. She finally did, and he handed her a handkerchief. She cleaned her face, trying to stay upright without leaning against the bed frame. But she was struggling to do so before Juliano had thrown her, and it seemed impossible now. “You thought you could just speak to me like that and nothing would happen?” he asked with an eerily calm voice. </p><p>Teary-eyed, Elizabeth shook her head and whispered, “I just felt lonely. I missed you.” </p><p>Juliano smiled suddenly, and dropped down to the ground next to her; she flinched. He pulled her by the shoulders halfway into his lap, and she curled into him. Rubbing her back, he said, “I’m sure you did.” </p><p>They sat like that for a bit, until Juliano picked Elizabeth up and put her on the bed. She paused, waiting anxiously for his next move. He looked at her with a surprisingly tender smile and patted her head. </p><p>When she woke up, Juliano was still there, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Dizzy, she sat up and smiled at him. “Welcome back, babe,” he said, looking her over with hungry eyes. </p><p>She rubbed her eyes without thinking and winced. She had forgotten about how the night ended, and her nose was still bruised. He stood up from his seat and sat on the end of the bed, patting his lap. Elizabeth nodded and laid her head down on him. Running his fingers through her hair, he said, “You’ve been with me long enough that you should get to know some things. Get dressed, we will be leaving on the hour.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Joining the Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Juliano takes Elizabeth on a tour of his world</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Surprise guest part 2!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elizabeth cleaned up and ate as quickly as she could. <em> This is it, </em> she thought excitedly. <em> This is proof. Real proof. </em> </p><p>As she sat in the lobby, waiting for Juliano, a handsome blond man approached her. “You’re far too beautiful to be left waiting,” he took off his hat as he tipped his head to her. </p><p>Elizabeth smiled. Though she had found herself completely surrounded by men as of late, polite attention had become rare. “I agree. It’s a good thing that I’m early.” </p><p>He sat in the chair next to her, waving the bellhop off. “It’s a good thing that I am here, I should say.” </p><p>“Oh? Is that so?” Elizabeth giggled despite herself.</p><p>“Of course! A gorgeous woman such as yourself, left alone? Men will surround you, begging for your hand in marriage without a guard such as myself.”  </p><p>He was awfully charming. Elizabeth could easily see herself spending time with him, if they had met in another timeline. Growing up, boys were often intimidated by her intelligence, and that intimidation often showed itself in ugly ways. Even in college, the young men couldn’t stand to see a woman smarter than them. It took Elizabeth a long time to feel confident in her looks, and she, like any other person, enjoyed flattery. Laughing, she rested her chin on her hand, eyes sparking. “And you? Are you immune to my charms?”</p><p>The man shook his head, “Not at all. It is taking all of my self-restraint to not sweep you off your feet and carry you to the nearest chapel.” He stuck out his hand: a gold wedding band was on his right middle finger. “And what name am I telling the pastor, my dear?” </p><p>“Lisa Dawson,” Elizabeth offered hers back. </p><p>The man closed his eyes and kissed her glove, “Miss Dawson, a pleasure. I’m Edmund Davis, and-” he sentence broke off. When he had opened his eyes, he saw the yellow-brown marks left on her arm from Juliano’s previous rampage. </p><p>He pulled away, surprised. Within a second, he collected himself, cleared his throat, and smiled again. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.” </p><p>Elizabeth’s spell had been broken, and she was no longer having fun either. “Mr. Davis, I hope you and your wife have a pleasant time,” she said, motioning towards the ring. <em> It was rather lazy of him to simply switch hands</em>. </p><p>Surprised, he looked at the ring, as if he forgot he had it. Smiling nostalgically, he spun the ring a few times. “Ah, no, I am not married.” </p><p>Elizabeth nodded. There was no reason to push forward, to push a stranger into personal sadness. She had been offering him an out, so he could leave the battered woman with his manners intact, leaving her with a story to tell at the club, or wherever men like him go. The damsel trapped in the fine hotel tower. </p><p>She did not need to offer an out, as Juliano was walking up to them. Her posture shifted away from him, and Mr. Davis knew what she was looking at before he turned around. Juliano, never one to turn down an opportunity to show off what was his, grabbed Elizabeth’s waist. “Lisa, babe, is this man bothering you?” he asked, smiling menacingly at Mr. Davis. </p><p>Elizabeth couldn’t be certain, but she thought that there was a flicker of recognition between the two men. She shook her head and laughed, “Not at all, Francesco. In fact, he was defending my honor.” She winked at Davis, who shifted his weight uncomfortably on his heels. </p><p>Juliano straightened his spine, towering over Davis, who looked like a lanky child in comparison to Juliano’s overwhelming figure. “Ah, Mr. Edmund Davis I believe?” Mr. Davis nodded, not breaking eye contact with Juliano. Juliano turned to Elizabeth and explained, “Mr. Davis here owns <em> The Gotham Times</em>. I’ve been following some of your stories quite closely.” </p><p>The threat was clear. It hung in the air, thickening like the bile forming in the back of Elizabeth’s throat. Before she could say anything, Davis stuck his hand out, “I appear to be at a disadvantage, as I do not know your name. Have we met?”</p><p>It was a bold decision, especially after Elizabeth had said his first name. Juliano narrowed his eyes and pulled Elizabeth closer. “Juliano. Francesco Juliano,” he spat and turned to Elizabeth. “We must get going. Mr. Davis, I look forward to seeing what you do next. Your paper is quite promising.” </p><p>Elizabeth nodded, smiling politely at Mr. Davis before following. She complimented Juliano’s tie, and it seemed to calm him down. In the car, he placed his hand on her thigh and spoke candidly about his disdain for the press, and how he had handled a few reporters who had gotten too close for comfort. Elizabeth recognized two of the names from her research and mentally filed them away. </p><p>They pulled in front of an unassuming building. She slid aside, expecting to be left in the car as usual. Sometimes, when he had felt particularly possessive, Juliano would bring her around as he worked, leaving her in the car, as opposed to a restaurant to wait. Though never feeling explicitly in danger, at least no more than usual, it had always felt like a vague threat, a reminder of what he could do to her. But she realized as he stuck his hand out for her to follow him, they were never threats. <em> This </em>was the threat. </p><p>She took his arm as he led her into the building. She noticed the sign on the door, written in golden script, <em> Paradise</em>. Swallowing nervously, she leaned into him. “Frankie, are you still mad at me?” </p><p>He laughed as if her question was a joke, “You’re smart, Lisa. I’ve always thought that. Good memory, you’ve got.” It wasn’t an answer.</p><p> He squeezed her arm as he directed her down the steps. <em> So that’s why the girls called it the basement, </em> she realized as they descended into the darkness. </p><p>The air was still and filled with smoke. Even in the middle of a weekday, Elizabeth could hear soft moans and gasps coming from the doors they passed. As they walked down the maze of halls, sometimes a door opened, and a tired, barely-dressed young woman would slip out of a room, staring at Juliano anxiously. One of the girls walked out of a room with a bruised cheek so fresh, it hadn’t even had the time to blue up yet. Another was limping.</p><p>Shaking, Elizabeth did not question Juliano when he had her stand in the hall as he slipped behind a door eloquently labeled <em> The Front Office</em>. A sudden scream came from down the hall, and she hurriedly followed the sound. Before she could find the source, a pair of hands grabbed her from behind, pulling her into a broad chest. Startled, she turned to find Juliano, who appeared satisfied by her wild eyes. “You’re not good at listening, though.” He pinched her cheek. “If you’re not careful, someone might think you’re <em> supposed </em> to be here, dear.” </p><p>Elizabeth nodded meekly, clinging to Juliano. Her fear stoked his ego, and he smiled. Holding her by the waist, he waved over an armed subordinate. He whispered something in the man’s ear. The man looked at Elizabeth briefly and nodded. Without explanation, Juliano pulled Elizabeth out of the building, periodically looking down at her with a cruel grin. </p><p>In the car, he stared at Elizabeth expectantly, waiting for her to do something. There was a lot that she wanted to do: cry, yell, hit, and possibly even stab. But any of those would not yield the results she wanted, so instead, she straddled his lap and began to undo his pants with one hand as the other gripped the back of his neck. Juliano was surprised by the action but quickly embraced it, having the driver pull into a lot. Whatever anger Juliano felt towards Elizabeth, it dissipated as he fucked her roughly in the back seat of the car. </p><p>Elizabeth was numb to the emotions that were supposed to come with sex — lust, exhilaration, or even just simple captivation. His harsh hand had stopped being a surprise, as expected as his nasty words or cruel deeds. To her, sex with Juliano was a task, a means to an end. And she needed it to end. </p><p>Panting and sweating, Juliano wiped his brow and told the driver to continue with the original route. He teased Elizabeth, saying that if being in Paradise did that to her, he should take her with him to work more often. Although the idea of stepping foot in the building again seemed a waking nightmare, Elizabeth did her duty and agreed, playing with his undid bow tie. <em> Maybe I could even get into the front office</em>, she pondered. There had to be documents there proving <em>something </em>illegal. </p><p>They pulled in front of a large, luxurious looking building. “There is someone you should meet,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. </p><p>They waited at the bar, and much to Elizabeth’s surprise, he did not encourage her to drink or take anything. It was nearly as unsettling as it was relieving. “Who am I meeting?” she asked, genuinely anxious. </p><p>After her third time asking, Juliano looked at her and answered, “My wife.”</p><p>Elizabeth stared silently at him, unsure of what to say. She didn’t know that he had a wife. In her research, there had been photos of him with different young dancers on his arm, even a second-hand report of him with one in an alley — a report she could verify as likely true. But never a wife. Her stomach turned as she realized that once again, he was pushing her as some pawn in a game, a piece used to play with someone else’s emotions. </p><p>She obediently followed him to a table set up for two and sat, while he had a third chair brought over and placed by her side. He scrunched her in his arms as they waited. An elegantly dressed, tall, dark-haired woman walked over. She stared expectantly at Juliano, who stood up to greet her with a cheek kiss and pulled out her chair. “Francesco,” she said in a heavy Brooklyn accent, voice full of disdain. </p><p>“Donna, this is Lisa,” he introduced. </p><p>Elizabeth looked up from the empty plate at the mention of her name and smiled weakly. The woman looked her over, eyes softening. “I take it that he did not inform you of our lunch?” She asked and continued without waiting for a reply. “Francesco, you may leave us.”</p><p>Smiling, he pulled Elizabeth in for a wet kiss before leaving. Red, she would not look the woman in the eye. “Mrs. Juliano-” she began. </p><p>“Donna,” she interrupted. “I prefer to minimize my associations with that man.” </p><p>They sat in silence until a waiter came over. He seemed to know her, and they chatted casually for a moment before she ordered for the pair. Finally, she turned her attention onto Elizabeth, who was attempting to turn into a statue. “You need not be so embarrassed, dear. I’ve known about you since before you laid eyes on my husband.” Elizabeth looked up in confusion, and Donna smiled kindly. “Our marriage was one of convenience: I desired to get away from my father, and he desired to get closer to him. Certain <em>arrangements </em>have been made between us. In fact, I must thank you. For performing the wifely duties that I do not have the stomach to do anymore.”</p><p>The waiter arrived with drinks and placed them down. After he left, she continued, “My husband is not a kind man.” Elizabeth, still unsure of what this test was, moved to object, but Donna held her hand up to stop her. “I admire your dedication to your role, but he is not here. You do not need to pretend.”</p><p>Donna tapped the bridge of her own nose in acknowledgment and reached across the table to push up Elizabeth’s sleeve. The bruises on her body ranged from a day to nearly two weeks old. She ducked her head in shame and rapidly withdrew her arm, but Donna would not hear it, “You have done what you must to survive. We all do, dear.” </p><p>As Donna sipped her coffee, Elizabeth whispered, “Why am I here?” </p><p>“Because I wish to help you.” </p><p>“Why does <em> he </em> think I’m here?” </p><p>Donna smiled momentarily. Instead of answering, she pulled out two photos from her purse. “We have a little boy, Francesco Junior. He’s nearing eight. He is, however, an invalid. It was polio, it has left him unable to walk before he even learned to do so. We were unable to conceive another child.” </p><p>Elizabeth looked up, eyes wide. Shaking her head, she began, “Mrs. Juliano, Mrs. Donna, I-”</p><p>“You have managed many months of frequent intercourse with my husband, and yet you’ve remained, to my knowledge, free of pregnancy,” Donna explained casually as if they were discussing the weather. “I wish to have the knowledge that it is not <em> I </em>causing our issue.” </p><p>Elizabeth sat quietly, unwilling to answer. Instead, she asked, “How would that help me? Accusing him of sterility?” </p><p>Donna smiled kindly. “You’re a smart girl. You deserve more than whatever he does with his girls when he’s done with them.” </p><p>Elizabeth felt her nails dig into her palms as she was seized with anger. “And the other girls?” <em> And Kat? </em> “They deserve it?” </p><p>Donna looked down at her plate, considering her words. Before she could consider what to say, Elizabeth replied coolly, “I’m unlikely to ever become pregnant, if you must know. An injury left me with severe scarring. I was told I was fortunate they did not have to remove the organ as a whole. So that is likely why I have avoided the same fate as some of his other girls.” </p><p>Donna frowned, and Elizabeth removed the napkin from her lap. “If that was all, I wish to be going.” </p><p>“Do not leave, Miss Dawson. I still wish to help you. It was Francesco that wished for us to meet. He has never kept a girl around for this long, and I suppose he has intentions.”</p><p>Despite herself, Elizabeth snorted, “Intentions?” </p><p>Donna conceded her odd choice of wording with a grin, “I believe he wishes to keep you around. But I doubt that feeling is mutual.” </p><p>“And what, if you were correct, could be done about that?” </p><p>“You were in France. Perhaps I could find you a position within our house, with Junior. You worked with the Red Cross, I assume?” </p><p>Elizabeth shook her head. For a moment, she toyed with being honest about her position, but instead, she simply replied, “I was with the army, ma’am.” </p><p>She raised her eyebrows, curious but knowing that she had lost her place to question, continued anyways, “You’ve dealt with him for too long to receive nothing.” </p><p>Elizabeth smiled wryly, “I’m still alive.” </p><p>Donna nodded, and they finished their meal in silence. Juliano returned, where he graciously kissed his wife’s cheek before taking his leave with his mistress. Back in the hotel, the moment the door closed, he turned on her with hungry eyes. Unlike in the car that morning, he was not angry at her. But the new red marks on her waist and the dull throbbing pain in her skull did not seem to know that. </p><p>When he was finished, Elizabeth hung over the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette. She watched as the ash dropped from the tip onto the fine rug. It felt poetic, but she was unsure of how. Juliano stood up to get dressed. As he slicked Brillantine into his thinning hair, he said casually, “I have a trip to Chicago this week.”</p><p>Elizabeth sat up, “I’ve never been!” Lie. </p><p>He chuckled and took the cigarette from her fingers. “You are not coming. I’ll only be gone four or five days.” </p><p>She fought back a smile at the thought, four or five days without Juliano. She pressed her head into his stomach, arms wrapped around his waist as she pouted, “You’ll let me know when you’re coming back, right? I would hate for you to return the day before I get my hair done!” </p><p>Juliano patted her head and tilted her chin up. “Don’t you worry, babe. I’ll call when I know when I’m leaving.” He puffed on the cigarette again and continued, “You’ll be staying here anyways. You are not to leave the room.” </p><p>Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she pushed herself away from him. He glared down at her. “What do you mean, I am not to leave the room?”</p><p>Lip curling with anger, he replied, “You are not <em>daft</em>, my dear. It means that you are to stay in the room. Food will be brought to your door. Which is the only time I expect you to open it.” </p><p>Incredulous, she stood up, “I am not even to see any friends? Go to the salon? Why?!” </p><p>Juliano placed the cigarette down on an ashtray and raised his hand, but she did not flinch. Elizabeth was too angry. When he saw that she would not back down at a threat, he grabbed the ends of her hair with one hand and her throat with another. “Is my saying so not enough of a reason?” he hissed. </p><p>“What have I done wrong?” she squeaked out. </p><p>Her answer was not what he had been searching for. The back of her head slammed into the headboard, and she cried out in pain. Tears formed in her eyes as he climbed on top of her, squeezing her neck just enough that it hurt to breathe. Fuming and shaking with rage, he leaned in, seething, “I am not to be questioned by <em> you</em>. You will do as I say, or <em> you will do nothing at all </em>.” </p><p>To seal to deal, he pressed a knee into her gut, forcing her to instinctively lurch forward. He did not let go of her hair, and she yelped as she was pulled back. Juliano stood up, smoothing his suit. Before he left, he turned on his heels to say, “I will be back tomorrow morning before I leave. I expect a different attitude. Something a bit more representative of my leave of absence.” </p><hr/><p>Elizabeth did not call Vittorio to inform him of the situation. There was something different about Juliano’s behavior lately, and it frightened her. Every word he said to her seemed urgent, and she didn’t trust making a phone call from the hotel. If she did not contact him for a week, it would be no different for him. </p><p>After Juliano left, she sat in her room alone. She was sore all over and wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a good book. The bath was easy and much appreciated. She spent the rest of the day considering what to read; a pastime she had felt forced to abandon as Juliano’s plaything. She had yet to read <em> A Mysterious Affair at Styles </em>and had heard nothing but good things about it. Elizabeth considered calling the front desk and attempting to get it but knew that Juliano would find out. A dark thought snuck into her mind, <em> He’ll find out everything, won’t he? He always does. </em></p><p>Months of fear had built up in Elizabeth, and while she had allowed herself to feel it here and there, as she sat alone in the room, there was nothing stopping the dam from breaking. As soon as the first tear fell, she began sobbing helplessly. Screaming into her pillow, she tried to stop, to control herself, but there was no hope. She cried and cried, waiting for the cathartic post-cry feeling to come; but, it didn’t arrive. Instead, there was a knock at her door. “Room service,” a deep voice called out. </p><p>Though she had not eaten yet that day, she had also not ordered anything. But she did not doubt that Juliano was having someone check in on her. “No thank you,” she replied, trying not to sound as if she had been crying for nearly an hour.</p><p>The knock repeated, “Room service, miss.” </p><p>Elizabeth ignored the knocks, hoping they would go away. Surely her response was enough to confirm that she had stayed put. But the voice repeated itself two more times before she finally stood up. “What?!” she yelled as she ripped the door open. </p><p>She expected one of his lackeys or Edward, the bellhop who serviced the floor. Instead, dressed in a green uniform and carrying a tray, was Vittorio. He looked at her, concern overtaking his face. “Room service, ma’am,” he repeated as he made his way into the room. </p><p>The moment the door closed, he placed the tray down and pulled Elizabeth into a deep hug. “Why are you here?” she whispered, head pressed into his chest. </p><p>Vittorio rubbed her back and led her to the couch, where she tucked herself into him. “Are you alright?” He paused, “That’s a stupid question, of course you’re not.” </p><p>“How did you know I was here?” </p><p>He smiled softly and kissed the top of her head, “I’ll always find you, bella.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I will DIE on the hill that Davis is blond. I don't care that they changed the graphics, he is blond in my album and in my heart</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Final Decisions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elizabeth and Vittorio's mission begin to come to an end as things come to a point -- a breaking point</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Semi-spoilers for 4-18 an 4-19<br/>So excited for this chapter!! I worked hard on the characterization of their relationship, so enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vittorio stared at the pile of blankets on the other side of the hotel bed, drinking his espresso. Whenever he woke up throughout the night, her skin had felt like ice. So he would get her another blanket from the chest and pull her closer to him. He was never close enough to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth turned over, squinting from the sunlight. Smiling, Vittorio placed his cup down and closed the shades. “Good morning, bella,” he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like there’s a million pounds on me,” she chuckled, wriggling underneath her mountain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved a chunk of red hair from her face. “You felt so cold all night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth kicked two layers off and sat up, stretching. Vittorio looked away, as she was still naked. She laughed, pulling on his arm. His skin was hot, as if he had been sitting in front of the fire. He crawled onto the bed, covering his eyes with his free hand. He peaked through his fingers jokingly. “Am I offending your delicate sensibilities, my dear Mr. Puzo?” Elizabeth asked, fingers drumming on his nearly bare chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned and kissed her nose. “I am not used to being able to stare at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He instantly regretted his comment as it hung in the air between them. Elizabeth’s smile saddened. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his undershirt. Vittorio kissed the top of her head, holding her. “Forget what I said. I’m here now,” he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll be back in just two days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was right, of course. Their few days were just that, a few days. But Vittorio didn’t want to think about that. He ran his warm hand down to the small of her back, smirking as he felt her shiver. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as he stopped along a cluster of scars next to her spine. “Where did you get them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth didn’t move away, instead finding the round-ish scar in his shoulder blade. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio grimaced. It was from his days before he became, as she called it, a morally upright criminal. “One of Sal Gallo’s guys clipped me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth looked up, “You’ve sat next to him at every poker night. And he shot you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio chuckled, realizing the irony. He shrugged, “I was still a kid and doing dumb shit. It was nothing personal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth gave him another confused look but went back to admiring the jagged edges of the pink scar. “It didn’t go through. You got shot in the back?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded slowly. She remained silent, waiting for an explanation. He sighed, “I was stealing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not shrimp, I assume,” she joked, looking back at his serious face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not shrimp,” he tried to end the conversation, but she was still looking expectantly at him. With a defeated sigh, he continued, “Raffa and I, we were trying to get in good with a local group to make some money. I worked next to one of Sal’s shops and knew the back entrance. We figured that if we could steal some of his goods for the boss to sell, he would find positions for us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did it work?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio smiled, looking somewhere between nostalgic and rueful. “No, not at all. Raffa had to dig it out himself. Poor bastard threw up and passed out before he could even get it all the way out. I was damn lucky the neighbor didn’t ask questions when she had to be the one to finish.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved behind him, tracing the raised skin with her finger. She leaned in and kissed it, moving up to his neck. Her chapped lips left each spot they touched burning, as if they were tiny fireworks exploding against him. He turned to meet her lips, moving his hands from her chest down her back. He stopped again as his fingers moved over the scars, and pulled away. “I shared mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat up, looking down at him, red hair framing her face. Elizabeth smiled sadly, “Why do you even want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why </span>
  </em>
  <span>am</span>
  <em>
    <span> I stopping this?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wondered that himself. But he knew. He knew that memorizing her body wasn’t enough for him, and that for the first time in his life, it could never be enough. “Because it’s something that happened to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She climbed off of him, leaning against the headboard. Vittorio grabbed a robe and handed it to her; she slipped it on, not bothering to take her hair out. “You already know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I ask if I knew?” he replied, confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me yourself, Army Engineer Corp and honorable discharge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought for a moment, trying to recall the file. That type of information about her had been replaced with more important things: how she liked her tea, her favorite flower, her laugh. “It was an injury,” he finally said. “But that’s all I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a riveting tale,” she sighed with a slight smile. “We were working on a bridge outside of Toul. Something went wrong, and it collapsed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his head in her lap. She absentmindedly began to play with his hair, sending a wave of chills down his body. “There were four of us on it at the time: me, Nells, Smithy, and Pig. Pig and Nells died on impact. Smithy can’t walk. And I,” she paused, guilt consuming her face. “I was in the hospital for about 7 weeks before they could even send me back overseas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault.” He could hear the guilt seeping in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “The first time we met at the café, you had asked why I left engineering. It was because while I was still in hospital, one of the nurses had all these books written by journalists. I was in France because I believed that for all the things wrong with America, we were still, I don’t know…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio nodded. His father had wanted to come to America since he was a little boy himself. He scrounged and saved and finally managed to bring his family over after nearly 30 years, and Vittorio had been excited by The New World. But losing his mother and two young brothers so quickly changed his mind on the promised land. “It is not as golden as the poems make it sound.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All those things we were fighting against, young men were dying for, it just wasn’t real. They were praying to get shot cleanly for a country that didn’t care for them. Those books, those essays, they all showed me that I was naive. I didn’t see an excuse for it anymore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you left engineering to fix the wrongs of the world as a journalist?” he did not mean to, but he knew that he sounded condescending. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I left because I couldn’t excuse myself </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying to do something. I wouldn't have even known about some issues if I hadn’t read about them. I couldn’t excuse being naive anymore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio smiled and raised an arm, brushing her cheek. “You are quite amazing, Elizabeth Colvin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blushed, and then Vittorio turned around, kissing her bare thighs. He felt heat rush to them as he moved up. Elizabeth cupped the sides of his face and pulled him up to her lips. “I’m hungry,” she whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pouted, slipping his hands between her thighs as he said through kisses, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What? If? We? Ate? Later?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth laughed, going to stand up. The sound rang in Vittorio’s ears like a song, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her onto him. His hands held gently on her waist as his long fingers wrapped around the small of her back. Elizabeth stared into his eyes, seeing her own reflect back, confused and flustered. He could hear his heart pound in his ears as he said, “I love you, Elizabeth.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and kissed his cheek. It was enough of an answer for him, but she offered a few words, “No, you don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but laugh, even if it was to cover his sadness. “What makes you so sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to protest, but he knew that she was right. This Elizabeth was a new one, one created out of spite and anger. One that may not exist once she had taken her revenge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kissed his forehead and stood up. “We should order something before someone checks on me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat next to one another at the small table, Vittorio’s hand glued to her thigh. There was a knock at the door, and he stood up to hide in the bathroom, in case it was Juliano’s man. It was. “Um, Miss Dawson?” a nervous man, probably double her age, said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth smiled kindly, “Yes?” She hated how scared they were to talk to her; lately, she felt as if the only person she regularly spoke to was Juliano himself. Even when Vittorio was with her, she missed casual conversation, the random chitchats with neighbors and women in the stores. She missed feeling like a full person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The boss, he is, uh, returning tonight. He says that you should be ready for a nice dinner. He will send for you when he’s back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth thanked the man and delivered the news to Vittorio. He placed a hand on his chin, already back into business mode. “Did he tell you where he was going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth was surprised, as she expected he knew already. “Chicago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned, “I was hoping that you wouldn’t say that. He needed one more family’s approval to move The Assembly forward. If he’s already back, I suspect an invitation will be waiting for me when I return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio had explained to her before what The Assembly was: the heads of the families met every three years to discuss business and redrawn lines. If Juliano had successfully moved it forward, then they had no more time. “What do we do?” she asked, relatively certain of the answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to kill him,” Vittorio answered decidedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth nodded, “When should I do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up from the ground, where he had been silently mapping out plans, shocked. “You’re not doing anything. At least, nothing like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean ‘nothing like that?’ When I signed on-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio grabbed her arms and swiftly cut her off, “Things were different. I’m not letting you put yourself in danger like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Different</span>
  </em>
  <span>? You mean, you weren’t fucking me!” she scoffed, shoving him away. “So what, if I had kept my legs shut then you’d hand me a gun and send me on my merry way?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew that her words would hurt, but they cut deeper than she expected. Vittorio staggered back as if he were shot, sitting back in his chair. He clutched the table, unwilling to look at her, knowing how close he was to yelling at her; but if he did so, he would be no better than Juliano. The worst part was that she was right, in a way. In his original plan, she killed Juliano and would be killed for her actions. It was supposed to be its own self-contained system. He had been proud of the idea, in a twisted way. That was, of course, before he met her. It was back when she was a concept, a plan. “Liz,” he pleaded weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t moved from her spot. Unsure if she cared about the scar her words left, she was still angry. About what, she was also undecided. But she knew that she needed him, in more ways than one. So, she returned to her seat and placed a hand on the table, near his. “Did I tell you about my first date with him?” Vittorio shook his head, unsure of where this was going. “He shot a man, right next to me. Said it was for spilling the wine, but I know it was a message for me. He rested his feet on the dead man’s back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sucked in a sharp breath, pulling her into a hug that she didn’t reject or embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I was scared. That you wouldn’t think I was capable of handling this. But I need to kill him. And Vitto?” he looked down at her. “I’m still scared. I’m terrified every single day. But I’m here, and I’m already in danger. I’m doing what I need to, but you can’t act like that’s safe. So please, don’t treat me like someone who doesn’t understand what is happening. Don’t forget why I’m here. Don’t make everything I’ve done been for nothing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Vittorio stood up and walked over to his briefcase. He pulled out a small black pistol, weighing it in his palm. “You know how to use it?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth smiled as she inspected the chamber, “Probably better than you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After she hid the gun in the lockbox she kept in the back of the closet, she walked back over to him, pulling him in for a hug. She meant for it to be about forgiveness, but Vittorio held her with a sense of urgency. “Please, consider that maybe, telling me where to get him is enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vittorio-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liz, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Consider it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, pressing her head against his chest. He didn’t want to let go, but she had to get ready. Juliano was back. So, he kissed her goodbye and left, making sure that no one saw him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s almost over.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Elizabeth twirled around in her dress. It was perhaps a bit gaudy, but she felt like Princess Mary. Juliano laughed, watching her stare in awe at herself in the mirror, tracing the black embroidery and silver flowers affixed to the green gown. “Are you certain it’s not too much?” she asked again, touching the large feathered headpiece self-consciously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano grinned, grabbing the yellow ribbon to pull her into his arms. “No gal on my arms could ever be too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was supposed to be a compliment to her, though it did not feel like one. So, Elizabeth smiled and kissed his cheek. He began to feel her up, slobbering on her neck. Giggling, she pushed him away, “Not before the dinner!” Juliano grunted, bending her over the bar. “Baby!” she argued as he fumbled to pull her tight dress over her hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t move,” he commanded harshly as he held the back of her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking bastard</span>
  </em>
  <span>! she cursed silently, doing as she was told. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m gonna shove a knife up your ass, tell you not to move. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to remove the dress, he gave up, letting her stand back up. He left to allow her to fix her hair. When he returned, his happy attitude had soured substantially. “We have to make a stop before heading to the restaurant,” he said as they walked to the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth frowned, holding onto his arm, “Can’t someone else handle it? It’s your birthday, Frankie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at her, an evil twist to his sudden grin. “This needs to be seen to by me personally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt her stomach turn, but smiled and batted her eyelashes as she walked her fingers up his chest to the ugly mossy bow tie, which matched the color of her dress. “Are you sure I can’t convince you otherwise?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tapped her nose with the same twisted grin. “I’m certain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were supposed to pull up to Salumi on Kinney at 8, where Elizabeth would drug his drink before a waiter would shoot Juliano in the back. “I need to be there,” she conceded to Vittorio over the phone. “I won’t do it. But I need to see his face. See him go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her insistence had worried him, but he was too happy that she was stepping back to talk more about it. So he got to work setting up the last moments of Francesco Juliano’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pulled up to Paradise. As he stepped onto the curb, he held a hand out to help her out of the car. Elizabeth swallowed nervously, “If you’re going to be quick, I can just wait in the car.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the car. “Nonsense; it’s freezing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano said nothing else and dragged her upstairs, opposed to the basement. The change of scenery did little to assuage her nerves. This new waiting room was much nicer than the halls of the basement, but still reeked of cigarettes and sex. The same soft sounds came from behind the walls, and Elizabeth realized that this must be where the “VIPs” go for their vices. The man she had seen last time returned and handed Juliano a set of keys. He brought her to a room with a massive, four-post bed covered in red silk. He closed the door behind her, and she heard it lock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth froze, uncertain of what to do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vittorio will never find me</span>
  </em>
  <span> was her first thought, and she was surprised at how easily it came to mind. She slowly walked back to the door and whispered, “Francesco?” No response. “Frankie?” she called out, voice shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walked to the bed, trying to control her breathing. There was a bar cart set up in the corner, and she poured herself a glass of water, attempting to calm herself. The water tasted sour, as if it had sat in old pipes. She sat at the table, waiting for him to return. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m being paranoid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she tried to convince herself, but it wasn’t working. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run, to find a way out, even if it was a swan dive out the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened, and Juliano returned, flanked by two large men she did not recognize. They looked like the men that Juliano would shoo her out of the room before meeting with, the kind she passed in the hallway and felt chilled to the bone. They were carrying a black metal box. It took a moment, since the box was dented and the lock was broken open, but she realized that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> lockbox. Not betraying anything, she looked innocently up at him, “What’s going on?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, as if he were happy that she was playing along. “Do you know what this is?” He gestured to the box, which was set on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, it looks like a lockbox.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the box, “What about this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano took out her gun, facing the muzzle at her head. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s a gun. Frankie, can you not point it at me, babe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” he asked, pulling the hammer back. Elizabeth’s heart jumped in her chest. “Does it make you upset, Lisa?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, trying not to cry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I should cry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he would like it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He pulled out her notebook, which was scribbled with copies of papers that she had found on his desk. “What about this? Do you know what this is?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks like a notebook,” she answered quietly, feeling weak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile widened, taking up his entire face. Finally, he pulled out two keys. One was to her subway locker and the other to one of Vittorio’s houses. Neither was marked with anything except numbers. Elizabeth tried to stand up, but her vision became fuzzy. Head swimming, she sat back down. “What’s going on?” she whispered, more to herself than him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Juliano leaned over the table and picked up the glass of water, smiling into it. He didn’t have to say anything for her to realize that he had drugged it. Her entire body was getting heavy as she struggled to keep herself upright. Juliano squatted next to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back against the chair. He gently ran the back of his hand down her cheek as he said softly, “Lisa, darling. It seems like you did something very stupid. But don’t you worry, I’m going to get to the bottom of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth blinked rapidly, trying to keep her eyes open. “Francesco,” she whimpered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kind smile disappeared from his face as he grabbed the back of her head and slammed it into the table. Blood spurted out of her nose as she cried out, but no one moved. As everything got dark, the last thing Elizabeth thought about was Vittorio’s promise, “I’ll always find you, bella,” and she wondered if he had meant it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know its a gaudy mess, but I love the Song of Andalusia outfit so freaking much</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Waking Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Juliano questions Elizabeth</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Spoilers for 4-20, and I guess also 4-17<br/>Tags definitely apply!! For sure!! </p><p>"ride bene chi ride ultimo" = Italian equivalent of "he who laughs last laughs the loudest"<br/>moll = girlfriend</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is a moment when you first wake up from a deep sleep. A moment when you can’t say for certain where you are, who you are. Elizabeth wanted that moment back. Because for a moment, she wasn’t in Juliano’s mansion, under his watchful eyes. “Welcome back, babe,” Juliano grinned from his armchair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every part of her body ached. It was a deep ache, one that went beyond her muscles and into the bone, becoming a part of her marrow. The cigarette between Juliano’s fingers was nearly finished. He took a final pull, stood up, and ashed the butt into Elizabeth’s exposed shoulder. She cried out in pain and anger, trying weakly to pull her arms free of the chair she was tied to. He laughed. It was the happiest she has ever seen him, save perhaps when Vittorio had walked in on them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vittorio</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She thought about how Juliano would inform him of her death. It made her nauseous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Juliano’s voice brought Elizabeth back to reality. “Are you ready to tell me who you worked for yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth had been strong at first, telling him that she was being set up, that she had no idea about the lockbox, where had he even found it? Why would she hide something in a vent in her closet? But that was three days ago, and she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The only reason she hadn’t given in yet was the satisfaction it would give Juliano, and she refused to let him have that. He had taken everything from her, one way or another, and she wouldn’t willingly give him an ounce more of herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood next to her, investigating the table full of tools. She shook her head, allowing herself to sob as she said, “Frankie-” but her voice broke off into a high-pitched screech. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood poured down the side of her arm where Juliano had cut her. Her sweat dripped into the open wound, stinging. His lip curled, disgusted. There was a knock at the door, and Elizabeth tried to scream out. It was pointless, she knew that. But it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Juliano wrapped his hand around her throat and shoved a wad of fabric into her mouth. “Enter,” he growled, staring down at Elizabeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man, one who often had brought her messages from Juliano, one she had never learned the name of, came in and tried his best not to be disgusted by the smell of fresh blood and stale urine. He handed a folder to Juliano, who smiled viciously when he opened it. As he read, Elizabeth realized that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> file. All of her research. They had figured out where the subway locker was. He pulled out a news clipping and read, “Sisters Kat and Liz enjoying their first Nathan’s hot dogs at the original location.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. Had she eaten in the past few days, she would have vomited. Tears began to flow as she rocked in the chair, moaning, desperately trying to break free, terrified. That was it. He knew who she was, and everything else would follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems I’ve underestimated you, Elizabeth Colvin.” Juliano stood up, walking towards her. He placed a hand on her cheek and mused, “If I had let you do the packing for our trip, I would have never even found out about your little secret box. You were so close.  Well, you know how it goes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ride bene chi ride ultim</span>
  </em>
  <span><em>o</em>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Italian did not flow the way Vittorio’s did. It sounded like a different language as it rolled off of his tongue, hammering into her ears. She didn’t know what it meant, but she heard the word “</span>
  <em>
    <span>ultimo</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and figured nothing good could come of it. He pinched her bruised cheek, and she flinched from both the pain and the expectation of more. Juliano left her, tailed by the man who had signed her death warrant. He turned the lights off, leaving her in pitch darkness, which felt fitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know how long he was gone, but it was enough time for her adrenaline to drop back down, forcing her body to fully feel what was happening to it. Beyond the pain, she felt a gnawing hunger and a deep thirst. Not only had she not eaten since before the assassination attempt, Juliano had barely given her enough water to stay alive. Her tongue was disgustingly dry and felt heavy in her mouth. Elizabeth was able to maneuver the cloth out, but the effort left her drained, and she drifted into an uneasy, blank unconsciousness not long after. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Juliano returned and woke Elizabeth up with a hard </span>
  <em>
    <span>slap</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the face. She jolted upright, panicked. He chuckled and moved back to his seat, a small black pistol in his hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her</span>
  </em>
  <span> pistol. “Bring him in,” Juliano commanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened, and some of his brutes dragged in a man. His head was covered by a sack, but Elizabeth could tell that it wasn’t Vittorio. Juliano stood up, walked over to the man, and kicked him a few times. The man grunted weakly. Elizabeth tried to turn her head away, but a pair of hands appeared behind her and forced her to look at the body. “Don’t close your eyes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lizzy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You close them, and it’ll be worse for our friend here!”Juliano cackled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano leaned down to the body and pulled on the sack. The man’s hands, bloodied at the fingertips just like Elizabeth’s, fought half-heartedly. Underneath the caked blood and fresh swelling, she could tell it was Leonard. He spit at Juliano, who simply laughed as one of his men punched him across the cheek for it. Leonard had probably had lunch with his assailant earlier in the week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano strolled back over to Elizabeth, who was trying her best not to cry. He roughly grabbed her face in his hand and pressed her gun against her forehead. “You should be proud of yourself, Liz. Can I call you Liz? I’ve fucked you, so I think I can call you Liz. You lasted what, three days? Didn’t give up a word. Leonard here,” Juliano yanked her head in his direction before pulling her face to meet his again. “He gave it up in what, 8 hours? 12?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Elizabeth!” Leonard called out. She heard a grunt, followed by the </span>
  <em>
    <span>smack</span>
  </em>
  <span> of him hitting the floor again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re Vitto’s moll, huh?” Juliano laughed. “Hell, I thought I was messing with his head when I had him walk in your kisser on my cock. But it turns out, I was breaking the sap’s heart too!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A burst of courage ran through Elizabeth as she spat, “And I fucked him in the room you paid for!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew it was coming, but Juliano’s response still hurt nonetheless. He landed a kick square in her chest, toppling the chair backward. She fell onto the floor, gasping for breath as her head spun. She wanted to curl up in a ball, but she still couldn’t move. He kicked her in the side, one, two, three more times. She flailed helplessly in the chair, screaming and coughing as she tasted the metallic tinge of blood in the back of her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Coward</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Leonard yelled. “You’ll only hit a woman, and only when she’s tied up!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano roared in anger and pulled the chair back upright. He grabbed a knife from the table, it already had some of her blood dried on it, and sliced the restraints away. As the blade slit the twine across her chest, it ripped her shirt, and she felt the cold air sting her exposed skin. Without the ropes holding her up in the chair, Elizabeth’s body slid down to the ground with a dull </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud,</span>
  </em>
  <span> where she tried to curl into herself. The jabbing pain in her ribs limited her movement greatly, and she was barely conscious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano grabbed her and pulled her up, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her standing. He slid her gun into her hand and wrapped her fingers around the trigger. Guiding her, he aimed the gun at Leonard, who had gone silent. She realized what was happening and moaned, trying to fight it. “No!” she cried out, trying to claw him with her remaining fingernails. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano whispered in her ear, “You must have wanted to kill him for what </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> did to your sister, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squeezed her hand and the gun fired, recoiling strongly against her weak grip. Leonard fell to the ground, dead. The bullet had gone through his head, taking much of the back of his skull with it. Blood pooled under his body. No one seemed to notice or care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth screamed in horror, trying to push herself away from Juliano. He laughed maniacally, dropping the gun to the ground and pulling her closer to him. He ran his lips against her neck before nipping her ear. Elizabeth sobbed as he spun her to face him again. Juliano wrapped her in his arms, hushing her, mockingly offering comfort. “You were a problem, Lizzy. But now? You’ve become my biggest asset. You’re important, babe. Be grateful; you still have a purpose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked her up by the waist and carried her out of the room. Elizabeth tried to fight him, tried to kick and hit her way out of his arms. But she could barely move. Everything was happening too fast and she was in too much pain, too tired. Juliano threw her on the ground in a small room. He ruffled her hair and tapped her bloodied nose playfully before slamming the door, leaving her in pitch blackness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth cried herself to sleep, praying that she wouldn’t wake up. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Pugilist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Juliano reveals his plan for Elizabeth</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Spoilers (in the way my story has spoilers?) for 4-20!<br/>Also, once again, tags do apply<br/>So this chapter was actually written ages ago, but it's one of my favorites because I feel like 4-20 was so rushed and I wanted to know more of what was going on with Vittorio</p><p>decks = pack of cigarettes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vittorio hadn’t heard from Elizabeth since two days before the assassination was supposed to take place. For whatever reason, Juliano didn’t go to Salumi, and she hadn’t been able to inform them where they ended up. He had tried reaching out to Leonard, but it was to no avail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like shit, boss,” Nino said a week after the failed attempt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio glared at him, but deep down, he knew that he was right. “Any word?” He whispered hoarsely, hands shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino shook his head. “Juliano always goes away after his birthday, you know that. It’s nothing to worry about. Miss Colvin said so herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then why hadn’t anyone seen him leave the city? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vittorio shook his head, “His birthday isn’t usually three weeks before The Assembly. Would he really leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino shrugged apathetically, but he had been wondering the same thing. “He thinks he’s invincible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio stood up and lit another cigarette. Nino sighed; he had moved onto buying cheap decks, not bothering to roll his own like he always had. “You need to eat something, you’re barely able to stand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio waved his hand dismissively. He was turning to put Nino in his place when there was a knock at the door. He went to answer when Nino stopped him, surprised; there was a protocol, and the boss never answered the door. It was dangerous and dumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino returned with an opened envelope. “It’s Juliano, he’s inviting you to The Sparrow Room tonight. Special occasion.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio snatched it from Nino’s hands, trying to gleam any more information. Frustrated, he crumpled the paper and threw it into the fire. “Get men ready, we’re going.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re joking?!” Nino said incredulously. Vittorio glared back with dead eyes. “He’s practically sent you an invitation to your own hit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Nino stared, dumbfounded. “There’s something else going on. And...” Vittorio trailed off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And it has to be about Elizabeth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wanted to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino nodded, finally understanding. “What do I tell them?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio shrugged, “Whatever you think is best.” He paused, “No, tell them exactly what it is. Keep her name out of it, but make sure they understand what this may be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino patted his friend’s back and left. Vittorio finished his cigarette and downed a glass of rum. He rubbed his chin, feeling the foreign sensation of a grown-in beard. He went to the bathroom and shaved for the first time in almost three weeks. He was nearly finished when he nicked himself. Vittorio stared in the mirror as the blood pooled, building until the cohesion couldn’t contain it anymore, and it dripped down, splashing into his sink. He watched the blood fall, splattering on the white marble. He watched until the bleeding stopped. Then, he turned on the faucet and washed it all down the drain.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Juliano sat at his table in The Sparrow Room, impatiently tapping his foot. Mrs. Molly walked over, offering him a drink. He yelled something that chased her off. “Is he here yet?” he asked Alvaro. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alvaro shook his head, “Not yet. Are you sure he’ll even show, boss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A vein bulged on Juliano’s neck. “He’ll fucking show!” he spat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Vittorio walked in, flanked by a dozen men. Juliano lit up, putting on a wide grin, “What a surprise! I was beginning to think you wouldn’t take me up on my generous invitation!” Vittorio scowled, eyes dancing around the room, adding up just how outnumbered he was. “Why the long face, Vittorio? I invited you to drink, not fight. Have a seat! Let your men take it easy, I’ve gotten this next performance together especially for you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio furrowed his brows, but accepted Juliano’s request. He sat at the table, looking around. The lights dimmed and music began to play from the piano in the pulpit. A few girls came onto the stage, dressed in blood-red silk. They danced to the music, swaying their hips and throwing their legs high into the air. Juliano snapped along to the music, smiling for the entire song. Most of the men watched, enamored by the exposed skin. Then, just as suddenly as they came, the girls left. The first curtain behind them fell, showing a silhouette of a body on a chaise visible behind a translucent wall. Juliano elbowed Vittorio and winked, “This part is for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran onto the stage as the second curtain dropped. Vittorio jumped to his feet; his men followed in suit, reaching for their pieces. Juliano smiled, “I see you remember our mutual friend, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lying on the velvet chaise was Elizabeth. She was dressed in a silver flapper dress, complete with a feathered headpiece, gloves, and heels. Her head was slumped off to the side, and her face wasn’t visible. But Vittorio saw the bright red hair and knew that it was her. “I’ll do anything you ask, just let her go,” he said through a clenched jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano laughed again, “I didn’t expect you to be so generous! We’ll get there, don’t you worry.” Juliano grabbed a chunk of hair and pulled her head back; she groaned, but remained mostly unresponsive. “You have a lot of people who don’t like you, Vitto. Did you know that? And let me tell you, when word got around that I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vittorio Puzo’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>moll up for the takings, I had some pretty good offers. Made nearly a grand in just, what, five days?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano’s laugh grew into a crazed cackle as the blood drained from Vittorio’s face in horrified realization. His hands began to shake with rage, and he grabbed the corner of the table to steady himself. Juliano continued, beaming, “Men traveled into town for time with </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> little Lizzy. She’s a real star, a real champ! Fought like a true pugilist each and every time. Had to do something to her pretty legs just to keep her from running away on them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s enough!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Vittorio roared, pulling out his gun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few of Juliano’s men stepped towards him, but Juliano raised his hand to stop them. He walked to the wing of the stage and grabbed a glass of water. He took a few sips, staring at the gun trained on him with an alarming calm. Juliano took a long sip and spit it out onto Elizabeth. As the water hit her parched lips, she moaned and opened her mouth to it, turning her head in hopes of catching more. Vittorio watched, unable to conceal the horror on his face. Her eyes slowly opened, but she was unable to focus on anything apart from the bright lights shining onto the stage. She felt the familiar metallic chill of a gun against her temple. She didn’t move, unfazed by it. “I’m planning on having some fun today. Too bad it’s not going to involve you,” she heard Juliano yell above her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juliano, stop!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Vittorio. Her eyes snapped open, trying to see him through the blinding light.  She recognized his tall figure and saw the slim shadow of Leonard — no, Leonard was dead— it was Nino, Nino holding him back. They were completely surrounded by Juliano’s men. Any move they made could be their last. “V-V-Vittorio?” she croaked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re Elizabeth is awake, Vittorio!” Juliano sang as he pulled her upright by her hair. If she had the energy, she would have cried out in pain. All she could do was whimper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let go of her, Juliano, or I’ll put a bullet between your eyes,” Vittorio warned, cocking his gun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chorus of hammers clicked around the room. Elizabeth felt a new fear strike her chest. She knew that was going to die soon, but Juliano’s human shield was not how she wanted to go. But he simply laughed and threw her onto the ground. She grunted, trying to stop her head from spinning. “I’m capable of showing mercy,” Juliano said as he stepped over the chair and kicked Elizabeth onto her back. “Especially to those who have shown me a good time before.” He laughed again, pressing the heel of his shoe against her crotch. She winced and moaned in pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Juliano moved out of her vision. With all the strength she had, Elizabeth pulled herself towards the edge of the stage. While a few of his men watched her, they were too scared to interrupt his monologuing. Juliano took little notice, sitting on the velvet chaise. He was talking about Leonard, mocking the dead man for his weakness. Elizabeth felt her heart pound against her ears as she dragged her limp body, not stopping until she felt her fingers grasp the end of the stage. With a final surge of adrenaline, she forced herself over the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth howled in agony as she crashed into the stands and instruments of the pulpit. She tried to move, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything but the searing pain coming from her left shoulder. Dizzy, she looked up at the feet running towards her. Vittorio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, there was a hail of automatic gunfire, all pointed directly in front of her. She screamed, unsure if it was still from the pain or out of fear. The deafening firing stopped, and Juliano jumped down from the stage, carrying a large gun loosely in one hand. The belt of empty casings knocked into her face, stinging her swollen cheek. Elizabeth looked in front of her and saw the holes in the ground, creating a small ravine between her and Vittorio, who was being held back by two of his own men. The look in his eyes was completely feral as he panted, staring at her. Elizabeth’s face was every shade of bruised and swollen. Small knife cuts started at her collar bone and worked their way down into the dress and out on her arms, hidden by the elbow-length gloves. Every inch of exposed skin was visibly injured in one way or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano chuckled, placing the gun on the stage. He knelt down to Elizabeth and whispered in her ear, “You just never give up, even when it’s the smart thing to do, Lizzy.” He grabbed her left arm and yanked it back. Elizabeth shrieked wildly as spots appeared in her vision from the unbearable agony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop! Stop it!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Vittorio yelled. “What do you want?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if he had spoken the magic words, Juliano dropped her arm with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud; </span>
  </em>
  <span>it fell loosely, landing in an unnatural shape. Gasping, she tried to roll away from him, but he had firmly planted a foot on her back. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said devilishly. “I want you to allow my plans to go ahead. During The Assembly, you will do nothing but nod.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio stared at Elizabeth,  who was flopping helplessly like a fish under his weight. “And then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliano grinned, grabbing Elizabeth and pulling her to her feet. “And then, you can have your girl back. I’ll even call us square, forgive your little power play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth tried to choke something out through her tears, but Juliano wrapped a hand around her mouth. “Hush, babe. Let us men talk business,” he cooed, stroking her cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio stared helplessly as she tried to worm out of his arms. Every movement shot a new burst of pain through her body. But she was trying to shake her head, trying to stop Vittorio from agreeing. “You don't lay another finger on her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No one </span>
  </em>
  <span>touches her,” he finally said, defeated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fresh round of tears sprung to Elizabeth’s eyes as she whimpered. Juliano grinned and opened his arms. She fell, hitting her head on something before she collapsed onto the ground. She groaned as she fought to maintain consciousness. “I knew we could find middle ground, old friend,” Juliano said as he stuck his hand out towards Vittorio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio stared at it in disgust. Juliano’s malicious smile turned into a terrifying scowl. “Do we not have a deal, Vitto?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio looked at Elizabeth, who had lost her battle and laid on the ground, still except for the ragged rise and fall of her chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’ll hate me; but, she’ll be alive to hate me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He swallowed and shook Juliano’s hand</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. A Concerned Citizen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vittorio tries to figure out his next move in order to keep Elizabeth safe</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A quick mention of a spoiler from 4-3<br/>Also, surprise guest part 3, and our final surprise guest of the fic<br/>Although there is nothing graphic, there are mentions of violence</p><p>Some historical information: <br/>The Mann Act of 1910, a controversially worded bill that was meant to stop sex trafficking <br/>Murder Incorporated, a criminal organization that worked as enforcers for the Italian-American Mafia and Jewish Mafia</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“She’s not staying there,” Vittorio drunkenly ranted. “She c-c-can’t stay there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boss,” Nino began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Vittorio held his hand up. “Just repeat it, Ricci.” He continued to drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, “Boss, Miss Colvin will be okay. She’s a strong one, and she’s made it through the worst of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio threw his glass into the fireplace, glaring as the flames sparked and roared from the accelerant. “You think he’s keeping his word?!” He pulled a gun from his jacket and shoved it under Nino’s chin with a shaking hand. He hissed, “Look me in the eye and tell me that again. Fucking say it, Ricci! Say she’s made it through the worst of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Attempting to maintain his calm, Nino took a breath. He looked in his friend’s eyes, crazed and red, and replied, “She would have died a long time ago if she had followed her original plan. But no matter what, if you want to do something, you won’t be able to do shit if you keep acting this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panting, Vittorio pressed the gun harder for a second before withdrawing it. He drifted back to the couch and stared at the spot where Elizabeth had sat before, curled up into him as she cried. “The moment The Assembly is finished, he’s going to kill her,” he whispered into his hands. “We can’t wait that long.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took out a cigarette and lit it. After finishing it, he had another. Then, he got up and told a maid to draw a bath. He was making a plan, and no one would like it. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Prosecutor Diane Boseman’s office,” a chipper voice answered the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell the good prosecutor that this is Vittorio Puzo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line was silent for a moment before there was a scattering paper sound followed by muffled whispers. Vittorio smiled; it was exactly the result he wanted. “This is Prosecutor Boseman,” the woman’s voice said in a hushed tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have heard that you are one of the few members of the New York District Attorney’s Office who has stayed out of Francesco Juliano’s pocket, is that true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, before she replied, “I have heard rumors about many of my colleagues. If you are looking to buy an attorney, you’ve called the wrong office.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the contrary, I am here as a concerned citizen. I have information on Juliano, actionable information.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why would you offer this information to me, Mr. Puzo?” the prosecutor sounded skeptical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I would benefit greatly from it, Prosecutor Boseman.” She paused again, and Vittorio took it as an invitation to continue, “I believe are you familiar with those Juliano runs with? Including his women?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would prefer if we did this in person, Mr. Puzo,” Prosecutor Boseman said flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree that we should meet, but I need confirmation that you have information on the women he spends his time with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His wife, or the girl, Lisa Dawson?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you are given actionable information, would you take advantage of it immediately?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is all very hypothetical, Mr. Puzo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet urgent. I have plenty of information, </span>
  <em>
    <span>proof</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of many things. But I will find other places to go if I do not get the confirmations I need. Now, if the information allows you to act immediately, will you? Or will you hoard it as you have been with your Harris tapes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you aware of those?” the prosecutor hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To answer your real question, Juliano does not know about it. Nor would I tell him, even if you are unable to assist me. But, </span>
  <em>
    <span>will you act on the information?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Vittorio was losing his patience; he wanted to give the information to the prosecutor as opposed to some federal dick, but she was not making it easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. If I can act on it, I will,” she sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Tomorrow night, 11 pm, Moon Cafe on 26th. You may bring one other person, to ease your worries. I suggest you only bring someone you trust with your life, as I will not be pleased if this is leaked,” and Vittorio hung up, satisfied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino stood in the corner of the office, slack-jawed. “Boss? What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio looked up from the paper he was scribbling furiously on, “I am doing what must be done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If any of the men find out you’re planning to drop a dime...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get me Elizabeth’s research.” he went back to crafting his plan. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Vittorio sat at the table, going over plans with Nino. The house was empty except for his men, no house staff. No house staff was trusted enough. A middle-age man knocked on the wall and called Nino over. Without looking up, Vittorio waved the man in. “Whatever you have to say, it will make its way to me. Everything does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man walked in, holding a small, pale blue box in one hand and a white envelope in the other. He shuffled over, anxious, and cleared his throat, “Boss, you’ve, you got a package.” Vittorio stuck his hand out expectantly. “You, uh, oughta prepare yourself a bit, Boss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio finally looked up, staring at the man. He was shaking in his skin, a response Vittorio was not accustomed to when he was simply speaking to his men. He gently put the box on the table and handed over the envelope. Vittorio read the letter, not allowing any emotion to slip out. Slowly, he stood up with the box and walked into the corner. He opened it, sucking in a deep breath. “Nino,” he said with an eerily calm voice. “Take this to Dr. Seymour Goldberg, that Jew on Liden. Get me all the information on it he can sniff out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nino walked over and took the box, opening it. “Jesus Christ!” He placed it on the table, crossing himself. He recovered quickly. “Boss, we don’t even know it’s hers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” he grunted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boss-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>It fucking is</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” he roared, throwing a chair across the room; the wood splintered as it crashed into the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio grabbed the box back. He cradled a lone finger with a small bow tied around the bloodless base in his hand. It was a ring finger, and the bow had a small faux blue gemstone glued onto it.  He could hear Elizabeth’s laughter as they laid in her hotel bed. She had lifted her hand up in a stretch, and he had pressed his against hers. “What did you do?” he had laughed at the two misshapen, smashed fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had pushed him playfully, “I broke them when I was a kid. I was trying to clean out a horse’s shoe, and well, she disagreed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had wrapped his hand over hers, enclosing it. Then, he whinnied. Her lips had pressed together into thin frown, and he had worried that he had gone too far. But then, an amused smile broke through with a giggle. She stuck out her tongue childishly. Their noses were nearly touching. She had kissed him before getting up to get the tea left at the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio sighed and gently placed the finger back and closed the box, shoving it in Nino’s chest. “You go. See to this personally.” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Vittorio sat in the empty cafe. He hadn’t brought any of his men with him — a sign of good faith. A surprisingly-short dark-skinned woman confidently walked in through the door, flanked by a large blonde woman. He was expecting a man by her side. The prosecutor and her assistant sat across from him. “Prosecutor Boseman, Miss,” he nodded as he stood up, waiting politely for them to take their seats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prosecutor raised a brow, almost surprised at his manners. The blonde woman boldly stuck out her hand, “Annie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio stifled a chuckle. Elizabeth would’ve liked this woman, how little she cared for formalities. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> like this woman.  “Miss Annie,” he nodded, correcting himself. “Would either of you care for something to drink? Water, tea, coffee? I believe there is even Coca-Cola in the back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annie went to ask for something, but Boseman spoke first, “This is a business meeting, Mr. Puzo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed, and I am treating you as I treat those I intend to do business with. Would you wish otherwise?” Prosecutor Boseman pursed her lips in response. “Fine then. Straight to work.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio pulled out his folder, which contained copies of everything that he and Elizabeth had found. On the top of the pile were two pages that summarized all that they had collected. “Perhaps you would care for a cup of tea now?” Vittorio remarked, noting the shocked looks on their faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up and made his way behind the counter placing a kettle on the large stove. He had sent everyone in the diner home. The two women set to work, reading and whispering to each other as they pointed out items in the collection of information. Vittorio sat at the counter to give them space, appearing patient as they worked. He knew that if he were to show how rushed he was, how important their actions were, Boseman would feel obligated to see what else she could get. It was what he would do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, after nearly an hour and a half, the prosecutor looked at him, the stern look on her face never wavering. “Much of what you have is simply hearsay, Mr. Puzo. And hearsay is not actionable information.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio returned to the table, nodding. “You are correct, this alone is not actionable. It is evidence, but not damning. However, what if you could get into his office yourself? Would getting such information from his desk be enough?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She narrowed her eyes, and slowly nodded her head. “Yes, however, that is not what you have brought me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved to leave when Vittorio held up his hand. He reached into his black coat and took out a smaller folder, as well as a small, pale blue box from a metal tin next to him. Swallowing, he placed them on the table and opened the folder first. It was a picture of Elizabeth and Juliano, seen leaving The Sparrow Room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had mentioned this woman on the phone, Mr. Puzo. Miss Dawson is guilty of nothing but breaking Prohibition laws and likely solicitation-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he snapped, anger flashing across his face. He recomposed himself immediately, but he knew that he had given away too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly is your interest in Lisa Dawson, Mr. Puzo?” she asked; her entire tone and demeanor had shifted now that she knew that she had an advantage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, he moved the picture to show Elizabeth with her sister. “Her name is not Lisa Dawson; it is Elizabeth Colvin. You may recognize it, as her sister went missing from Juliano’s club almost two years ago, around the time of your promotion. And currently, Juliano is holding her against her will, either at Paradise or his townhouse.” He swallowed and added softly, “He also informed me of violations of The Mann Act that he brokered himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Intrigued, Prosecutor Boseman raised a brow and pulled the papers closer, reading over the information; her war records — photo included — and degree, as well as a few of her articles from her hometown paper. She looked up at him, “All I see here is evidence that Miss Dawson is not who she claimed to be. Nothing otherwise. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> word is not enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio pushed the box forward, nodding for her to open it. At the sight of the detached finger, Annie gasped, looking away. The prosecutor showed no reaction, simply looking at the note, which read “</span>
  <em>
    <span>For sizing - Francesco</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is his letterhead,” she muttered under her breath, finally shocked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio cleared his throat and closed the box before speaking as leveled as he could, “You’ll find that the finger was removed pre-mortem and set on ice, so dating its removal is impossible.” He pulled a piece of paper from Elizabeth’s file and pushed it towards her. “This report is from a favorite coroner of yours, Dr. Seymour Goldberg, who, as you know, has cared little for our games since his second son died during an </span>
  <em>
    <span>altercation</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Murder Incorporated.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boseman excitedly took in the information, losing her controlled composure for a moment. Finally, she said, “I am still unsure of your stake in this, Mr. Puzo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure that you are not, Prosecutor Boseman,” Vittorio replied coolly, tapping his finger on Juliano’s note. His respect for her was suddenly toeing a thin line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, accepting the answer. She gathered the pile, everything except the box, which Vittorio had placed back into the icebox, and stood up. Annie stood with her. “I will bring this to a judge that I trust and contact you further. I assume your information is in here?”  Boseman said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio nodded and walked the two women to the door. He returned to the table and sunk into the booth with a heavy sigh. He had done all he could. The rest was up to others, a fact which he despised. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Sunset in Cefalù</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vittorio's plan pushes forward as a raid on Juliano's home and businesses commence, as he desperately hopes that Elizabeth is okay.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>That's all folks!! This was the final chapter of Tit for Tat, and I just wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who's read my little take on a dumb little video that I've been playing for too long haha! </p><p>I'm not sure if I'll do another DUTP, but I'm enjoying Shadows of London a lot, and I've been toying with a gender-bent Dr. Grey or Jesse Lindvall for the past day or so, so maybe! </p><p>This chapter does has mentions of blood and references to implied violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vittorio sat in a car a few streets away from Juliano’s Long Island mansion, waiting. He saw a few cars drive past him, and he had Giorgio follow them. As he expected, out stepped Prosecutor Diane Boseman, flanked by a few officers. He nodded to her as he approached, and she excused herself. “You’ll appear to be working for me, if you behave so secretively,” he warned as he offered his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She refused it, pursing her full lips. “I was under the impression that you did not know where Miss Colvin was located. Yet here you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “As are you. I suppose we both took advantage of the scope of information. Your team will be raiding Paradise as well, I presume?” She nodded. “Well, perhaps I had a feeling that this location would yield the results I desire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked him up and down, neat in a pressed black suit and freshly shaved jaw. But the haggard expression wearing down his face betrayed his calm demeanor as an act. “Are you certain that Juliano does not know?” he asked, not attempting to mask his concern. “If anything happens to her…” he allowed the threat to hang in the air between the two, carried along the chilly breeze that hit the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prosecutor was not affected, standing her ground. “None of the men outside of my team were given the name on the warrant, or the address. They are meeting at a different point and following people I trust to the final location. If any information is leaked, it did not come from my end.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a tactful response, and Vittorio respected it. He followed her back to the men, who introduced themselves as a federal officer and the police commissioner. Vittorio knew the commissioner and knew that he frequented The Sparrow Room. Juliano had contributed handsomely to his campaign. They played poker together a few months ago, with Elizabeth in the room. He had asked Juliano to borrow her. Attempting to maintain a calm voice, Vittorio said offhandedly, “Perhaps you will recognize Miss Colvin, Commissioner. Although, you may remember her as Miss Lisa Dawson.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prosecutor Boseman looked at the commissioner, surprised. She looked quizzically back to Vittorio, who nodded in confirmation. The old man bristled and replied coolly, “I do not appreciate your accusation, Mr. Puzo. May I ask why you are present?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prosecutor answered, “Mr. Puzo is the one who brought us the information I spoke of in the car, which proved credible. It was to his address that Miss Colvin’s finger, as well as the note I showed you, were sent.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio did not like that these men were aware of his stake in the current matter, but he also knew that that was the price of his presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, the raid seemed boring. Two officers knocked on the door, and the butler opened it. They showed him the piece of paper and the butler closed the door. Everyone, Vittorio included, had expected a hail of gunfire to exit the windows, but nothing of the sort happened. A group of house staff and some upper-level members of Juliano’s outfit exited, but no Juliano. Vittorio froze to the frosty ground, feeling it crack and crumble underneath him. He felt a hand on his arm and looked at Nino, who was staring at him with comforting eyes. It did nothing to keep his knees from shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few officers entered the house, and there was a single gunshot. Vittorio grabbed onto a piece of fencing to keep from collapsing. A dozen officers ran into the building, all brandishing weapons. After ten minutes, one officer exited the mansion and walked over to the commissioner, who nodded and whispered a few things back. The old man spoke to the prosecutor and federal officer and looked back at Vittorio with a smug smile. He was certain he was going to vomit. Prosecutor Boseman rolled her eyes and waved him over. Three more officers entered the house, but there was no more gunfire beyond the one shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s happening?” he asked, keeping a calm expression, though there was a desperate edge in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gunshot in a room upstairs that no one will identify, so we assume it’s his study or bedroom. Officers tried to enter, but the door was barricaded,” she said plainly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can they hear anything?” he pressed, panic soaking into him. Her eyes dropped to the ground briefly, and Vittorio forgot how to breathe for a moment. “Please, tell me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There were thought to be a few screams of a woman at first, followed by the sounds of a man yelling, but nothing has been heard for a bit. The door is quite heavily reinforced, so they are struggling to break it down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio nodded slowly and began to walk towards the mansion. A few officers tried to stop him, but he shoved them off with just a menacing stare. Knowledge of his presence had spread around the scene by that point, and the men had no intention of picking a fight with another Boss that day. Not one with such a determined look in his eyes. Not one who had so much to lose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed the trail of people to Juliano’s bedroom, where two officers were attempting to break down the door. They paused, looking at his intimidating calm, waiting for something. Vittorio realized that he had not figured out his own plan for entering the home yet. He chose to give instructions, “Break down the wall.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two looked at each other, confused. One stepped forward bravely. “That is not legal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio laughed mirthlessly. He turned around, and as expected, Nino and Giorgio were behind him. He motioned for the two to take over, and they did so with grand smiles. The officers did not argue, simply handing over the battering ram. It took three hits before the drywall caved in, and another two before Vittorio could push past the mess into the room. There was a large cabinet flush against the door, which explained their difficulties. Trying not to let panic creep into his voice, he called out, “Elizabeth?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No response. He stepped forward, dark eyes scanning the toppled furniture until he noticed a few drops of blood behind the desk. He moved towards it without a word. It was more than some droplets, it was a storm. He didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until he sighed, nearly laughing. It was Juliano. The river of blood had come from him. To be specific, it came from a hole in his neck. A crimson-coated letter opener sat in one palm, but the other was empty. His eyes were open, glazed-over, and angry. He had died shouting and in pain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There were no gunshots on him, or in the wall. That still left Elizabeth. If Juliano was here, she was too; there was no doubt of that in Vittorio’s mind. “Liz?” he called out again, this time unable to mask the uneasiness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, no reply. The longer he looked at the scene, the more certain he felt that there was too much blood. She had to be somewhere. But there was no discernable trail to follow on the already red carpet. Blood was everywhere. Panting, he continued to repeat her name, growing more and more crazed as he did. He pulled up a fallen bookshelf, ripped off the (somehow) bloody covers, even threw the mattress off the bed, all while building to a scream. Finally, he ran over to Juliano’s body, pale and stiff. He kicked it twice, yelling, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Where is she, you bastard?!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned against the wall, sliding down onto the ground, defeated. No one, not the officers, not his men, moved towards him. A growing insanity was vibrating off him, as if his body was a neon sign. If Elizabeth was dead, it was his fault. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His </span>
  </em>
  <span>plans had killed her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His </span>
  </em>
  <span>impatience. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> lack of faith. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> love. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Juliano pulling the trigger was simply the physical act. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who killed her. He banged the back of his head against the wooden panels, whispering her name like a prayer to the ceiling. There was a small spray of ruby red across the plaster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he turned helplessly to the side, ready to curl into himself, considering what way would be most fitting to end the life of such a ruthless murderer — his own — he saw a crack in the wall, along with smudges of blood dragged along a line. He tried to think of everything Elizabeth had said about Juliano’s mansion, but she had rarely been here, and certainly never alone. But Juliano did have a false wall in his townhouse, he knew. He stood up, running his fingers over the panels, muttering to himself like a madman.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  
  <span>Elizabeth crouched as best she could in the dark, trying not to fall unconscious. If Juliano’s men were going to kill her, she would make sure she at least took one of them with her. At least. She heard Vittorio calling her name, and fought the urge to drift away into it. If she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, she knew that she could float away, fall victim to the imaginary sounds her mind created for her. She had seen it happen in the hospital. Men, moments away from death, saying that those they love were calling for them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Loved</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she repeated in the past tense. Everything would soon become past tense for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard a scratch near to her and tensed up, trying not to gasp from the pain. The scratching got closer and closer as she struggled to lift up her arms, pointing the gun where the door would open. She heard Vittorio’s voice get closer and closer, begging for her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I should give into it. Maybe it will be easier</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The panel moved, and Elizabeth was blinded by the sudden light. Overwhelmed and dizzy, her arms gave up and fell to her lap. A tall shadow blocked the light, and she closed her eyes, expecting to die. “Please,” she whimpered and instantly regretted her choice of final words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of the jeers she expected, she heard a relieved breath, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Elizabeth</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Vittorio. And he was pulling her into his arms; they were familiar and warm. The moment she felt them, the fear that kept the pain nearly manageable melted like ice, leaving her gasping for breath. He drew back, alarmed. His eyes were wet with tears as he looked her over, desperately trying to find the source of the blood coating her entire body. “Where are you hurt?” he asked urgently, pulling his tie off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let out a breathy laugh because everywhere was hurt. He nodded, cupping her cheek softly. He kissed her forehead, which was burning hot. He apologized softly, and before she could even begin to summon the energy to ask why, he began to gently feel around her chest, searching for the gunshot. She had almost forgotten about it, if only for a moment. He found it, not by touch, but by the scream that escaped her lips as he neared the end of her ribs. Repeating his apology frantically, he wrapped his red silk tie around her waist in a fruitless attempt to stop the bleeding. “Can you walk?” he asked, pulling her from her hiding space. There was an audible </span>
  <em>
    <span>splash</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the blood beneath her, the parting of the Red Sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without speaking, she motioned to her knee, which he had not noticed. Forcing her leg into an awkward angle, the kneecap was still purple and swollen from the beating it took. Swallowing, he nodded and swooped her into his solid arms. She wheezed, feeling the muscles in her chest yell at the sudden contraction. He looked down in concern, trying to move faster without forcing her body to feel it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth had closed her eyes, it somehow made the pain less, but she felt the burst of cold air against her. They were outside the house. She heard voices, but Vittorio stopped them all without words. Then, she was in a car, head in his lap. He was staring down at her, brown eyes overflowing with emotions that she was too weak to try to weave through. She shakily reached a hand up to his face. He grabbed it, pressing her open palm against his cheek, trying to absorb her pain through his skin. “I think,” she whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh,” he replied, stroking her hair. “Don’t talk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth tried to shake her head, but she was growing weaker by the second. The pain had moved from her chest into her lungs, requiring each breath to be a concerted effort, a display of energy that she didn’t have. “I th-th-think,” she began again, stuttering as she fought to stay awake. “I think I love-” she coughed and winced from the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio hunched into her, pressing his lips to her forehead, “Don’t say anything I can’t hold against you later, my dear.” His smile was audible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth smiled back and opened her mouth, but words wouldn’t come out anymore. Vittorio’s frame began to grow fuzzy around the edge until he was simply a shadow in the light. Then, there wasn’t any light. And then, there wasn’t any sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth tried to open her eyes, but quickly realized that it would be more difficult than it seemed. For a moment, she thought that she had died, but decided that if she had, she would no longer feel the throbbing pain coming from the hole in her stomach. A minute passed before she even realized that she was no longer in Vittorio’s lap. Or in a car. She was in a bed, with a soft blanket over her frail body. She hadn’t touched a blanket in weeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How long have I been asleep?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She realized that the warmth surrounding her hand was another hand. It was Vittorio’s, wrapping hers in a protective case. It was her left hand, and she was struck by the memory of its mutilation. When did he find out? She had been wearing gloves in The Sparrow Room. She squeezed the hand and felt it jump alive, squeezing back. Another hand ran up her arm and tenderly touched her lips. Then, a pair of lips touched her lips. Electricity coursed into her, and she forced her eyes open and smiled. Vittorio kissed her again and whispered, “It’s all going to be okay, Liz. I promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth nodded as best she could before letting herself drift into a much easier, welcome sleep. Everything would be okay.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Careful!” Vittorio chastised, grabbing both of Elizabeth’s arms as she stood up from the bench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swatted him away, “You’re being ridiculous.” Her knee never recovered completely, and she still limped, but only slightly. Nevertheless, she leaned against his body, wrapping herself in his bare arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vittorio smiled, squeezing her momentarily. He rarely wore his suits anymore -- a florist had no need for a waistcoat. Plus, Elizabeth had told him that she liked it when he dressed down, and no one was ever dressed up here anyways. They made their way to a stall where Elizabeth ordered them two arancini in broken Italian, looking at Vittorio for approval. Kissing the top of her head, he laughed, “You’re practically fluent, bella.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth elbowed him, sticking her tongue childishly. She walked away and leaned against the edge of the pier, staring as the sun dipped into the water, bleeding pastels into the Mediterranean. Vittorio paid for the food and snaked his arms around her, resting his hands on her stomach, which had barely begun to round. She moved them away and blushed, much to Vittorio’s amusement. He kissed her neck and chuckled as she turned pink. “You Americans and your rules,” he mocked, kissing her again. “A husband cannot even kiss his wife.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was her turn to mock, “I remember a time when you struggled to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>suggest</span>
  </em>
  <span> a kiss, or did you forget?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tips of his ears turned red, embarrassed. “So much sourness isn’t good for the baby, my dear Mrs. Puzo,” he laughed as he spun her around, placing one hand on the small of her back and the other on her stomach, just centimeters from the scarred gunshot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked down, resting her own hands on the growing bump. “Is that so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dottore</span>
  </em>
  <span> Puzo?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not tell him that she was worried that she was doing something wrong, that somehow she would ruin the baby, that her broken body was not supposed to be able to carry another life. She did not need to. He knew her well enough to see the anxiety cloud her face. He pulled Elizabeth into a hug and whispered into her ear, “You are doing wonderful, my love.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vitto, what if,” she paused, unable to finish her sentence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, “I told you, everything is going to be okay. And that includes our little </span>
  <em>
    <span>miracolo</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth nodded, letting his words soak into her like the sun; they warmed her all the same. Everything would be okay because Vittorio had kept every promise he made to her, even when there was no way he could’ve controlled it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She barely had to talk to the police while she was in the hospital, spending most of her time with the kind-hearted prosecutor who held her hand while she cried and let Vittorio sit silently beside her, her own personal bodyguard. Since Juliano was dead, there was nothing she could offer for a trial. The raid on Paradise had been more than sufficient to end the lives of many influential men, as well as save the lives of countless women and children. As soon as she was released from the hospital, they left the States for Vittorio’s hometown, Cefalù. It was the only place that they would be safe from any retaliation. Her parents and brother, of course, would be safe. He had even arranged for Stella to join them, moving to a hospital in Palmero. He had wrapped his arms around her as they stood on the deck of the boat one cold night on the Atlantic, telling her how long he had had this in place. How perfectly planned out each detail was, down to the small florist shop a street from the beach and its above apartment, which boasted a small office for her. There were always openings at the local paper. An aunt was already preparing to teach her Italian. He had even arranged for her to stay with a cousin until they could be married, though he rarely spent more than a single breath from her side. Especially when she slept; he promised to hold her during every nightmare. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything will be okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked back to their home and laid in bed while Vittorio read old poems she couldn’t understand to her stomach. Just as her eyes began to accept rest, Elizabeth jerked upright. Vittorio jumped up, frantically grabbing her shoulders, “What? Are you alright? Should I go get the midwife?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He calmed as she began to laugh, moving his hands to her stomach. Tears in her eyes, she looked up at him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>He moved</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed too, pulling her in for a hug. Elizabeth could drown in her happiness as she stared down at the small bump. She felt a small </span>
  <em>
    <span>pang</span>
  </em>
  <span> again, and this time, Vittorio jumped, amazed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything was okay. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think we deserved a better happy ending than Mafia Couple, and since the sunset ending is vague, I decided to make it happy. because sue me for liking a happy ending.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>